


Homecoming

by Beuphtiful



Series: Bruniik Fus, Krent Mon Do Akatosh [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dragonborn DLC Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beuphtiful/pseuds/Beuphtiful
Summary: Orphan. Thief. Guild Master. Prisoner. Dragonborn. Assassin.Many labels had been stuck to Aerisif in her life, but few seemed to last. People seemed to vanish quicker than her titles. She thought that losing Brynjolf would be the death of her, and it nearly was.Till her dormant Dragon Soul was awoken. Aerisif fought on for the greater good, but cared very little for her own fate. With Alduin defeated and her job completed, Aerisif turned to the Dark Brotherhood to cope with the trauma she has lived through.She would have been content to live out the rest of her numbered days without facing her past, until she is forced to return to Riften, where she is confronted with the life she left behind once she was named Dovahkiin.





	1. Forged by Fire and Steel

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is my first fanfic to exist outside of my own head. Still learning how to use this site, so bear with me while I figure out tags and formatting and such (so much formatting?!?)
> 
> This chapter is internal dialogue heavy, but fear not, more characters coming soon!

_Riften._

The old woman’s raspy whisper echoed in Aerisif’s ears. The word had been rebounding in her mind since she had spoken with the contact two days ago. It made the pit in her stomach, that Aerisif could normally ignore, burn and twist.

Riften.

Aerisif sighed, and shifted in her saddle. Shadowmere continued to trek along through the snow, her red eyes igniting the clouds billowing from her nostrils. When the Night Mother told Aerisif to meet the bitter crone in Dawnstar, Aerisif thought she had landed an easy contract. She didn’t even need to travel to meet the contact and learn the specifics of her target. Could anyone a frail old woman wanted dead be a worthy adversary? Aerisif would be back within a few days, at most.

A bandit had killed this woman’s only daughter, and she wanted revenge. It was a story Aerisif heard often enough. But when she asked where to find the bandit, her heart nearly stopped.

Although that had been two days past, Aerisif had delayed in embarking on this journey. She had made claims to Nazir and Babette that she needed to rest, to heal, even to test the new recruits, before she could take on the next contract. They both accepted her excuses, but Aerisif expected that the shrewd pair saw them for what they were. Excuses. But her family would not confront her with their suspicions. They trusted Aerisif, as she had proven herself to them time and time again.

The real reason Aerisif dreaded this contract was not one she would share with her newfound family, although she felt that perhaps she ought to have. After all, Nazir and Babette were all the family she had left.

_For however long they, or I, last,_ Aerisif thought.

They would not be the first family torn from Aerisif. Her birth family was stolen from her long, long ago, as a child in the Reach. Forsworn had raided her family’s farm while she had been out foraging in the mountains. Young Aerisif returned to find her home razed, the crops torched, and her family as desiccated corpses. Fire and steel had taken away all the child had ever known.

Soft snowflakes landed on Aerisif’s hood, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she shivered. In this line of work, losing her Dark Brotherhood family was more likely than not. They had already lost most of the family when the Penitus Oculatus routed their Falkreath Sanctuary. Left as head of the family when Astrid burned, Aerisif moved the survivors to the newly discovered Dawnstar Sanctuary to rebuild. Fire and steel took most of this family, too.

The Brotherhood had been thriving in the recent months. Nazir’s first batch of recruits turned out to have a natural talent for assassination, and were able to be trusted with small contracts rather quickly. With all the unrest in Skyrim, tensions were at an all time high. Tension made for good business for the Dark Brotherhood.

They were so overwhelmed with contracts that it fell to Aerisif to see this one out. The new recruits were both out on assignment, and Nazir had his hands full training two new ones. Babette had to meet a contact in Morthal, and left the same day Aerisif met the woman in Dawnstar. So, Aerisif must travel to Riften to eliminate some damned outlaw.

_Riften._

This time, a pair of piercing emerald eyes accompanied the thought. Aerisif felt her breath leave her with the image. She pulled her cloak closer around her again, but the cold she felt now was inside her.

Loss seemed to follow Aerisif everywhere she went. She had lost so many loved ones over the course of her life, that joining the Dark Brotherhood seemed natural. Aerisif felt no more.

The Dark Brotherhood was not Aerisif’s first adopted family. She remembered arriving to that world weary city of the Rift so many years ago. She had been a young woman, eager to start anew, and, as crossing Skyrim does to a traveller, low on coin. Aerisif had no real plan once she left the Reach, just to get as far away from it as she could. She had heard the trading caravans talk of the beauty of the Rift, and it was a whole hold away from her. It seemed like a fine goal.

Aerisif arrived at the Riften gates midday. Cautious, she took refuge in a grove of trees within hearing distance but out of sight of the gates. It sounded like the guards were collecting a fee from those who tried to enter the city.

Aerisif pulled out her coin purse. It had maybe, just maybe, enough for a room at the tavern, but no meal. There was no extra gold for greedy guards. Aerisif pocketed the coins and considered her options. She was too small in stature to look intimidating enough to get the guards to lay off her. But she had learned to use her size to her advantage on the cold, stoney streets of Markarth.

An orphan lived a rough life. Aerisif took refuge in a damp corner of the Warrens. She quickly learned to use her youth and innocence to guilt coin from passersby as a beggar, and this kept Aerisif fed for a number of years. Not well fed, but she had not starved to death. But time is cruel, and soon Aerisif look too grown to illicit sympathy for a child, and she found other means of collecting her coin.

Pockets are so much easier to pick as a slight, nimble figure. Aerisif could slip in and out of crowds unnoticed. She found her fingers to be quick with locks, too, and that the shadows cloaked her easily.

Aerisif discovered that she made a fair thief.

She was not without her blunders, though Aerisif often found that a sweet smile and remorseful eyes could often tempt a guard to forget what they had seen. In this too, this new stage of life, Aerisif found she could keep herself fed. And just a little better than she had as a beggar.

Behind the grove of birch trees, Aerisif sat and waited. She doubted she could smile her way out of that “visitor’s tax”. Luck must have been smiling upon her, because a trading caravan soon rumbled up the road to the city. One, two, three wagons rolled over the crest of the hill. Aerisif slipped out of sight and waited for her chance. As the third wagon rolled away from her hiding spot, she nimbly lifted herself into the back of the wagon and looked for something to cover herself with. As her hand found soft folds, she smiled again.

This wagon was full of furs. Aerisif quickly buried herself under the layers of furs, and hoped the guards would be lazy about searching the contents.

A moment later, the wagon rocked to a halt. Through the layers of furs, Aerisif heard the exchange.

“Halt, traveller. Before I left you in, you must pay the visitor’s tax.”

The Nord driving the lead wagon scoffed. “Visitor’s tax? I think not, my friend.”

The guard stiffened his tone. “Listen here, either you pay the visitor’s tax, or you can take your business elsewhere.” Aerisif held her breath. If this caravan left, her plan was in trouble.

The Nord sighed, clearly annoyed. “Then you can tell Jarl Laila Law-Giver that she can pick up her shipment in Shor’s Stone. See how pleased she is with that!”

The guard sputtered. “Right this way,” he muttered, and Aerisif heard the gates grind open.

Aerisif released her breath. Luck really was smiling on her today.

Once the last wagon crept through the city gates and she watched the guards pull them shut behind her, Aerisif slipped out of the wagon, and with a flick of her wrist, pulled the topmost fur off the pile and into her sack. She wanted to eat tonight.

“That’s a smooth move, lass,” The honeyed brogue made Aerisif jump out of her skin.

She spun around to find the source. A man with red hair, dressed in fine blue robes chuckled from the shadows. Aerisif put a hand on the hilt of her dagger.

“Now now, there’s no need for that lass. You don’t need to fear me calling the guards. But it looks to me like you could use some refinement.” He was leaning casually on a post, arms crossed, gazing lazily from the shade.

Aerisif squinted at the man and calculated. Could she trust him not to out her to the guards? She relaxed her hand from the hilt of her dagger. While on the road she had had to slit some throats to protect herself, but killing this man in the middle of the hold capitol was folly. Sighing, she approached him hesitantly.

“Refinement, you say?” Aerisif glanced around, but it seemed that there was no one nearby, and the people drifting around the market were too far away to hear or even see anything.

“Aye. It seems that you and I share a trade. Not that I would put that little stint on the same level as what I do, mind you.” Aerisif felt her blood boil and looked at the man’s face. She found a confident smirk on his face. And green eyes, clear like flawless emeralds, shining with playfulness. Aerisif quickly shook her gaze from his.

“And what is it exactly that you do?” Aerisif tried to hold herself in a way that was a confident and casual as this mans, but felt that she was not being successful.

“You could say that wealth is my business. Maybe you’d like a taste?”

Aerisif felt her stomach grumble. Yes, a taste of mead and a hot meal. She eyed the man again. She found intrigue on the man’s face and, what else? Was there more to that glint in his eye than gold?

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve got a bit of an errand to perform, and need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well paid.”

She eyed him calculatingly. “What do I have to do?”

“Simple. I’m going to cause a distraction and you’re going to steal Madesi’s silver ring from a strong box under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei’s pocket without him noticing.”Aerisif followed his gaze to the Argonian and Dark Elf in turn.

“Now, you tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll get started.”

Aerisif took a breath. Was this all happening? She hadn’t really had a plan for her new life in Riften, but starting out by thieving seemed…well, it seemed natural, really. It was what Aerisif had done most of her life now.

She turned back to the man. “I’m ready.”

The next few minutes were fuzzy in Aerisif’s memory. She remembered finding the strongbox easy to pick, but she hardly remembered how she crossed the bright, sunny market and found herself wedged between Brand-Shei’s stand and the stone half wall that encircled the market. Suddenly the silver ring was slipping into the elf’s pocket, and Aerisif stood. She realized where she was standing, and hoisted herself on the half wall, trying to look like she had casually perched there while listening to this stranger talk about…Falmerblood Elixir?

As the crowd dispersed, Aerisif slid off the wall and over to the smirking man. She found him expecting her. Aerisif told herself that her racing heart was due to the rush of committing a crime, nothing more.

“Looks like I chose the right person for the job. And here you go, your payment, just as I promised.” He slid a heavy handful of gold to Aerisif, who pocketed it quickly. The man looked away, and for the first time, Aerisif saw a more serious tint to his gaze as he looked off at a corner of the town. “And the way things have been going around here, it’s a relief our plan went off without a hitch.”

Aerisif frowned. “What’s been going on?”

The man spat, “Bah. My organization’s been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that’s just how it goes. But never mind that, you did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there’s more where that came form…if you think you can handle it.” The playful, cocky spark had returned to the man’s green eyes.

Aerisif drew herself up tall. “I can handle it.” she smirked.

The man eyed her carefully. “Brynjolf,” he extended his hand.

She shook it. “Aerisif.”

“Aerisif…” Brynjolf seemed to roll her name around in his mouth, like he was tasting a fine mead. He turned to her. “If you can make it to the Ragged Flagon in the Ratway, we can discuss your employment with my other associates.”

And so Aerisif’s career as a member of the Thieves’ Guild began. She trained hard, working feverishly to improve her skills. She found that many in the Guild were like her, no family to speak of, came to Riften, some directly to the Theives’ Guild, to start a new life. Many of her new brethren were willing to help Aerisif build her skillset. Others, like Vex and Delvin, were willing to give her chances to prove herself.

And Aerisif thrived. She had been a fair thief in Markarth, and she became a master thief in Riften. She trusted the guild members, and they trusted her. Trusted her to handle special tasks that required a skilled hand, tasks that brought gold to their coffers and merchants to the Flagon. And when the Guild was so cruelly deceived by Mercer Frey, they trusted her to take him down, along with Brynjolf and Karliah.

And it was with Brynjolf that Aerisif became a Nightingale, and swore herself to Nocturnal. It seemed that luck truly had been smiling on her the day she arrived in Riften, albeit in the form of the Daedric Prince of Shadows.

It was with Brynjolf that she took jobs, watching each other’s backs. It was with Brynjolf that Aerisif found she could confide and trust.

And it was with Brynjolf that she fell in love. Aerisif could still remember the first time he cupped her face in his hands and their lips met. How his eyes, his sparkling emerald eyes, looked when they were filled with warmth and affection.

Those bright, emerald eyes. They undid her. And it was Brynjolf’s deft fingers, nimble with more than just locks, that undid her laces, away from nosy guild members.

They kept their affections a secret from the others. In a guild where the gold, the beds, the meals, the victories, and the losses were all shared, it was delicious to keep one thing for themselves.

Aerisif was elected to Guild Master once Mercer had been extinguished. She refused it over and over, declaring Brynjolf was better suited to it. But he and Delvin and Vex would hear none of it. It had to be her. And so Aerisif took the mantle of leading the Guild. Her new family.

One crisp autumn, she and Brynjolf were sent to pull a job in Falkreath. They were hiding in the Jerall Mountains on their escape, to avoid any of the Jarl’s men searching for the thieves that dared strike their precious town. Drunk on victory and some Black-Briar mead, they stumbled into an Imperial trap.

Surrounded by so many, they had no chance of escape. She and Brynjolf exchanged slow looks, their hands in the air and their weapons on the ground. Why were there so many Imperials here? They had not been there on their voyage west. The Imperials clamped them both in irons and pulled them separate ways. But to Aerisif’s confusion, they were not interested in their stolen goods. They just seemed to want to keep them silent, and apart.

Two days of silence later, Aerisif learned why.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak was dragged into camp, heralded by shouts and jeers from the Imperial soldiers.

_They didn’t want us to ruin their trap,_ Aerisif realized. But then, why were they still being held? They had to get out. If the Imperials had caught Ulfric, the situation was dire.

Aerisif made a desperate attempt at escape that night. She had freed herself from her fetters, incapacitated the guard keeping watching over her cluster of prisoners, and made it all the way to where they were keeping Brynjolf before the guards caught and beat her. She could have bore the blunt of their blows, but when Brynjolf raised his head to the commotion and saw what they were doing to her, his pained gaze broke her.

Brynjolf cried out, begging, pleading, for them to stop, but all that did was earn him punishment of his own. Aerisif had never heard Brynjolf sound this way, like a wounded animal. It made her gut twist.

Aerisif had opened her mouth to shout to them to stop but never had the chance. Her breath released in a rushed sigh as a warhammer knocked her out.

When Aerisif next awoke, she was in the back of a wagon rumbling down some forested road.

“Hey, you’re awake,” one prisoner across from her spoke.

Aerisif straightened as she became aware. She glanced at her fellow prisoners. Two across from her, similarly bound as she, and one to her right. Her eyes widened when she recognized the Jarl.

_If I’m in the same wagon as Ulfric Stormcloak…_ She left that thought unfinished, shuddering at the implications.

“Where are we? Or, where are they taking us? Where is Brynjolf?”

“I think we must be near Helgen, but I know nothing of this Brynjolf you speak of.”

“Red hair? Green eyes, wide frame? From the Rift?”

The other prisoner looked up. “Aye, I saw the man.”

Aerisif whipped in his direction. “Where is he? Where did they take him? Is he in another wagon?” She began to search around to see where there wagon was within the caravan, but found that they appeared to be the only cart of prisoners. She felt her stomach knot and her heart race.

_No, no, no._

“I’m sorry…he…he did not make it. The Imperials killed him before we even left camp.”

Aerisif felt all the breath leave her body. The world was spinning. She thought she would vomit for a moment, before a solid rock replaced the knot in her gut. “Are… are you sure?” She asked in a small voice. Her eyes welled with tears, and she felt like a child again.

“I saw the Imperials do the deed with mine own eyes. I’m sorry, kinsman.”

Aerisif did not speak again for the rest of the journey. She faintly heard the other prisoners converse, something about a horse thief, Rorikstead, and the war, but she heard them as if she was far away, catching their conversation echoing through the mountains. Guilt rushed into the void inside her, venomous and sharp. It had been her idea to travel through the mountains. It had been her that opened the mead to drink while they walked. It had been Aerisif that chose to bring Brynjolf with her on the job, and her that got him killed when she tried to break them out.

If it hadn’t been for Aerisif, Brynjolf would still be alive.

Imperial shouts woke Aerisif from her blank state. They were ordered to move. She did as she was told. There was no more fight in her blood. She felt as if her life force had been drained since she had heard of her love’s death, forced by her hand. Aerisif was ready to die too.

She watched the horse thief make a break for it, and watched his body crumple from the rain of arrows that pierced him a heartbeat later. Aerisif considered following him; she was doomed for the headsman anyway, what did it matter how she died? But she found she had not the energy to run. Best to just let death come to her.

The sweet release of death was in the air, and Aerisif could just nearly taste it.

Emotionlessly, she watched the first head roll. The wind roared and the leaves on the trees shuffled. It was her turn.

Aerisif lay down on the block obediently. She closed her eyes. There was no need to watch the axe swing to her.

The earth shook and Aerisif’s eyes were jolted open. She thought she must have died already, for there was no other explanation to what she saw.

A dragon, black as midnight, was perched atop the tower above, staring down at her.

In that moment when his molten eyes met hers, Aerisif felt something she had never felt before. She felt her blood surge and rage. She felt a beast rear up and roar in her chest that had never before awoken.

Unbidden, Aerisif’s legs pushed her up from the ground and led her away from the inferno that blazed where she had lay a moment before. A tempest of fire and steel erupted around her.

She did not remember how she did it, but Aerisif survived Helgen. She recalled the other prisoner she travelled with calling her, leading her away, and blindly, she followed.

For all the hopelessness that had been festering inside her, new life sprung like green shoots in the spring. She wanted to live. Why? How dare she? When Brynjolf died she had been ready to join him. She longed to be beside him again. But instead of the resignation that dwelled complacently inside her before, the new beast demanded she continue on.

_Skyrim needs you. Tamriel needs you._

In Whiterun, that beast was given a name: Dragonborn. It had a voice too, that shouted out all the rage and pain inside Aerisif: Her thu’um.

And so, Aerisif continued. She did as the Greybeards asked, she followed Delphine’s guidance. She travelled Skyrim to Sovngard in her quest to save it all. To give all others a chance at the peace she would not know. She slew dragons and draugr and dragon priests and anything else that stood in her way. Once a woman of daggers, she found the weight of a greatsword to be a natural extension of her being.

Shadowmere halted to graze on the green, tough grass, and the sudden stop jolted Aerisif back to the present.

_Grass?_ She looked around. She had reached the plains of Whiterun Hold.

She sighed. Helgen was a lifetime ago. Sovngard was a lifetime ago. When she had returned from the after life, she felt the dragon inside her settle and tuck its head under its wings.

_Rest now,_ it had said. _You have done all that I asked._

It was not rest that Aerisif sought. Instead, she unleashed her pain through the Night Mother’s bidding. It did not satisfy her, but it kept her busy. And busy kept her alive.

Aerisif breathed in the warmer, kinder air of the plains. She pulled Shadowmere from her grazing and urged her onward.

To Riften.


	2. Midnight Breathes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, last lonely chapter, I promise. This one's got a little more action in it!

It was a bright, sunny afternoon when Aerisif first saw Mistveil Keep on the horizon, looming over the city walls. Aerisif felt indignant that the weather should be so cheery when gloom resided inside her.

_It’s far too bright to be stealthy,_ she thought. _I need the weather to change._

The Storm Call shout came to mind. As Aerisif was still an hour’s ride away from the gates, she doubted her conjured storm would last long enough. No, she would need to wait for dark.

Furs and cloak tucked away, Aerisif had donned light leather armor outside of Winterhold for the remainder of the journey. Her Dark Brotherhood armor was useful while stalking prey in the dark, but also rather conspicuous in broad daylight. She would change again before entering the city. In the meantime, she played the role of an adventurer, and looked the part. Her gleaming greatsword was strapped across her back, and Shadowmere made for an intimidating mount. Few would dare cross her, and those who did would be easily dispatched.

Rather than continue south down the road toward the city, Aerisif guided Shadowmere off the road and to the west, heading directly for the lake. Unlike her first visit to Riften, Aerisif certainly could intimidate her way out of paying the false tax this time. However, that would cause quite the commotion, and Aerisif wanted to fly under the radar. She would not be entering through the main gates this time. No one would even see her in Riften.

A ruin appeared through the thicket. Faldar’s Tooth. Aerisif had cleared it out a while back, and it would provide the cover she needed so dearly. Swiftly, she dismounted, and gently stroked Shadowmere’s nose.

“Stay right here, I’ll be back. You’ll know if I need you.” The great ebony steed snorted and picked at the grass in front of her.

Slipping easily into a crouch, Aerisif crept toward the ruined keep. She saw no obvious signs that bandits had returned, but they could be hidden. When she slowly turned the corner she found the courtyard deserted. Aerisif slunk into the shadows and waited.

When she had counted out several minutes with no sign of motion, Aerisif took a chance.

“Zul, Mey, Gut!” Disembodied, her voice echoed around the courtyard.

She waited. The click of claws on stone accompanied by growling echoed from the back stairs. Aerisif drew her greatsword and readied herself for what she had to do.

The pair of pit wolves rounded the corner in a fury, snarling at their dinner. Aerisif calculated the distance and began her swing when they were a few paces away. The blade sliced deep into the flesh of the first wolf, which crumpled with a whine. She yanked her blade free in time to sink it into the hide of the second wolf. The blade struck bone soon after, and a sickening crunch rang in her ears. Aerisif winced and withdrew the blade.

Once she was certain no more foes approached, she relaxed and wiped her blade on the grass. She avoided looking at the wolves as best she could; Aerisif loathed to kill animals when it was not necessary. But she needed to shelter here, and using a spell or shout to calm the beasts would only work for a short time. She rose and whistled.

A moment later, her steed trotted through the archway, tossing her mane fiercely.

“I know, you wanted a piece of the fight,” Aerisif tickled Shadowmere’s chin. “Next one is yours.” Shadowmere tossed her head again and trumpeted. Aerisif unstrapped her enchanted pack from the horse’s back, and dug out some feed left inside. “Here, eat up.”

She left Shadowmere to eat and she jogged up the stairs to where she remembered the door to the tower to be. Digging through a pocket of her pack, she found the key from when she had looted this place the last time, and unlocked the door.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, Aerisif still found she was alone. Just to be sure, she used her Throw Voice shout again. She strained her ears, but still heard no signs of life scrambling about. Aerisif pulled the cross bars down on the doors to the tower anyways.

Aerisif lowered herself the floor, laid out her bed roll, and sighed. There was a musty smell to this tower, and some of the wolf smell had remained since the keep had been used for training pit wolves.

_It’s not the worst place I’ve had to rest my head,_ she thought as she stretched her stiff limbs. A little sleep now would do her some good, make sure she was rested when night fell. Aerisif yawned, and shut her eyes.

***

_The Ragged Flagon was alive. It rang of drinking songs, loud guffaws at tall tales, and murmurs as thieves counted out coin. Someone had pulled out a lute and was strumming it along with the drunken belting._

_Aerisif was sitting at a stool in front of the bar, leaning her upper body over the counter. Vekel was ensuring that her cup never ran dry. She had a tankard full of mead in her left hand, and a hefty coin purse in her right._

_“No, it was a numbers job. But how else will the poor fool learn not to leave coin lying around in locked strongboxes where thieves can find it?” She laughed and took a mouthful of mead._

_Her laughter was echoed by nearby guild members. Delvin raised his tankard, “Our dishonorable Guild Master!” The Flagon echoed the toast. Even Vex smiled for a moment before resuming her perpetual scowl._

_Aerisif was drunk and happy and rich. What more could she ask for? Just as she had thought the words, she felt a gentle touch at her waist and smiled. She breathed in and knew Brynjolf had slipped in behind her, she knew his scent well by now. Aerisif longed to lean back into his chest, to bask in being close with him, but not here. Not in front of the Guild._

_“So now I’m under this mark’s bed, trying my hardest not to even breathe while they fell asleep!” Etienne was recounting his last job to anyone who would listen._

_“You think_ **_that’s_ ** _rough?” Called Niruin. “Once I had a job where I had to hide IN the mark’s bed, before robbing her blind…while she slept after I had…” Niruin smirked. “Exhausted her.”_

_“You mean to tell us that you bedded a maid AND pulled a job? How on Nirn is that worse?!”_

_“If you had seen the maid, you’d have understood!”_

_The Flagon erupted into laughter again. Aerisif smiled and reveled in the joyful sound. Was it laughter? The sound of battle had burst in. The Flagon was filled with thieves and Imperials, drinking and fighting and dying and shouting. Aerisif straightened, and found she was the only one alarmed. Why was no one else addressing the battle in the Flagon?_

_She turned to Brynjolf, but instead of concern found hatred in his eyes. “You,” he sneered. “You did this.”_

_Aerisif was taken aback. “No! No, I didn’t know-“_

_“You led us here, right into the Imperial trap. This is your doing.” His eyes were steely and accusing._

_“No— I didn’t know— Brynjolf!” Aerisif protested._

_“Why, lass?” Brynjolf was covered in blood now. “Why kill me?” His voice was fading._

_“Brynjolf!” Aerisif shrieked. She could save him, there was still time. She scrambled for her bag, for a healing potion, but the bag was gone. She tried to remember how to tap into her magic for a healing spell, but when she reached out, her hands were clasped in irons. She struggled against them. “Brynjolf!”_

_“Was it not enough, Guild Master?” Brynjolf’s voice was weak and strained. He was dying, right in front of her. “The gold, the riches, the title? Me? Did I not give you enough?” Tears and blood streamed down his face, and Aerisif felt her heart shatter._

_Aerisif opened her mouth to respond, but before she could a sword ran them both through._

Aerisif awoke to her own screams. She was covered in sweat. Panicked, she looked around the dark room. Where was she? She grabbed her dagger, always tucked close to her body, and swung at the darkness. Her blade sliced through the air, finding no target.

It came back to her as her eyes adjusted. The contract, Faldar’s Tooth, the whole reason for the trip. Aerisif breathed in deep and slowly, to steady herself. It had been months since she had had night terrors like that.

_Why now? Is it because I’m in the Rift?_ Aerisif shuddered to think what nightmares she would be plagued with after she had been inside the city walls again. Aerisif reached for her bag, rummaged through it, and pulled out a hunk of bread, some cheese, and a bottle of ale. A full stomach would help.

Aerisif tried to push the images from her night terror out of her brain as she ate. _Vaermina is cruel_. She washed down her meal with the ale and stood. Opening the door revealed a black night and some wispy clouds.

_Perfect,_ she thought, and thanked Nocturnal and Sithis.

She walked back within the tower and opened her enchanted bag. As she reached for her Dark Brotherhood shrouded armor, her hand brushed up against her Nightingale armor. Spontaneously, she pulled the full set out and inspected it.

The midnight leather was still in flawless condition. Aerisif had learned early on the value of taking proper care of her armor, but this particular set never seemed to need much work. She turned and held the leather to the candlelight, but rather than reflect the light on its oiled surface, the enchanted armor seemed to _absorb_ the light.

_Just like holding the void_ , Aerisif mused, as she had the first time she admired the set. She was under no obligation to wear her shrouded armor when making a kill; she had always done so because it seemed appropriate. But now looking at her Nightingale armor for the first time in _…years?_ it seemed wrong to wear anything else.

Aerisif slipped on the shadowy folds. It was still perfectly sculpted to her frame. In it, she was midnight with breath. As she fastened it tightly, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

_I am the void_. Sliding the cowl up over the lower features of her face and the hood over her crown, Aerisif was ready. She packed up her discarded traveling clothes and bed roll and returned to the courtyard. A pair of red eyes trod over to her. If Aerisif hadn’t been so accustomed to Shadowmere as a traveling companion, the sight might have scared her to death.

_I am death_. Aerisif strapped her bedroll and greatsword to Shadowmere, then rubbed the horse’s neck.

“I have to do this alone, girl,” She whispered. “I won’t be long, but I won’t meet you here. I’ll find you by the stables.”

The horse snorted and bobbed her head. Aerisif cherished her mount for many reasons, her intelligence high among them.

Aerisif walked through the keep’s archway and breathed in the crisp, night air, perfumed by the lake in front of her. She could see torchlight from Riften across the water. Taking a final breath, she walked a few paces ahead to the shore and into the lapping waters.

Learning a waterproofing spell and applying it to all her armor had been one of the greatest assets of all of Aerisif’s adventures. She glided through the water as silently as the fish around her, but dry as a bone.

_I am a slaughterfish,_ Aerisif smiled at her own joke. She felt the pressure and temperature of the water around her, but not a drop of it penetrated her armor. It was still an odd sensation, to be in a lake and not soaking wet, but Aerisif would take odd over sopping any day.

The docks grew larger before her, and it was only moments before Aerisif felt the wooden stairs beneath her feet. She slipped out of the water as silently as she had entered it.

Crouched low, she carefully noted the position of the guards. Their torchlight, intended to improve their safety and vision, did the opposite. It gave away their patterns, and it night-blinded them to anything out of the torchlight. They would never even see Aerisif.

She slowly crept her way along the docks toward the wall looming above. A side step here, a silent roll there, and she was past all the guards, so secure in the false safety they held flickering in their hands.

Aerisif strode up the ramp toward the canal gate, but rather than enter the city through the wooden door, she halted. She glanced around to ensure she was out of sight, reveling in her abilities, and then took a calculating look at building to her left. A few seconds later, she leapt from the ramp. After a brief instant gliding through the air, Aerisif’s hands gripped the edge of the neighboring roof. She relaxed her lower body, so as to not crash into the side of the building.

Pulling herself fully onto the roof of the Black-Briar Meadery, Aerisif could now see most of Riften from her perch. The sight of the city that was once her home tore any mirth from her. She felt her stomach lurch and her heart ache, but quickly made herself shake the feelings.

_No place for emotion here, now. Focus._ A few guards patrolling, a beggar by the marketplace, and an occasional drunk making their way home from the tavern were the only people in the streets. It was about as ideal as it could get.

Aerisif padded across the roof of the meadery over to the Pawned Prawn’s tiled roof. It was slightly less exposed to the market, and its doorstep was a little more shadowed as a result. She turned her head towards the heavens. A large, thick cloud rolled across the moons, blocking any light from the skies.

_Is Nocturnal aiding me again?_ She shook the thought from her mind. No, Nocturnal would care very little about Aerisif’s work as an assassin. Aerisif dropped from the roof, and her leather clad feet made no sound as she struck the pavement. Waiting, waiting, waiting. A guard made its round past the door to the tavern, and swung left towards the smith rather than toward where Aerisif was crouched. She crept around the corner of the Bee and Barb and glanced around. No one in sight. This was her chance.

Aerisif held her breath as she pulled open the wooden door to the tavern. For once, it did not squeak. She exhaled, slipped inside, and found a shadowed corner to blend in.

It took too much of Aerisif’s willpower not to cry out at the sight of so many familiar faces. Talen-Jei was serving one of his specialty drinks. Marcurio was plying his services to anyone who would listen. Keerava stood behind the bar, as stoic as ever. Riften carried on its business in her absence, and why shouldn’t it? She meant nothing to the topside of the town. A cursory glance at the patrons quickly identified her target. The brawny bandit was sitting at the bar, trying to woo Svana. Aerisif found herself looking at the pendants around his neck and the coin purse at his hip greedily.

_Just wait,_ she chided herself, _he’ll be so much easier to rob once he’s dead._ A room full of customers was not the place to carry out this contract. And so, she settled into a more comfortable position, and waited.

Another tankard of mead later, Svana gasped indignantly and strode away from the bandit and out of the tavern. _Could have told you that would happen, Svana,_ Aerisif thought. She had not been close with the girl when she had been a citizen of Riften, but they had exchanged words here and there.

As she hoped, the bandit slammed down his tankard and angrily stormed up the stairs. A shadow followed him.

An old woman descended the stairs toward them, and Aerisif thought her heart was going to thud out of her chest. The assassin flattened herself against the rail, and the woman walked by, oblivious that she had been an inch from death.

_Why am I so jumpy? This isn’t me. I must have made, what, hundreds? of kills by now?_ In the depths of her mind, Aerisif knew why her nerves leapt tonight, but would not honor the thought with recognition. She turned her focus to the target.

The bandit drunkenly stumbled around the corner. _This will be an easy kill_.

Aerisif followed him to his room and ducked into a corner by the wardrobe. She was practically invisible. She waited till the door swung shut, took a breath in, and sprung.

One hand grabbed the bandit by his hair, and the other slid an icy blade across his throat. He had not the time to cry out, or even realize he was dying, before his life’s blood poured from a wire thin line under his chin.

Aerisif caught the body and lowered it silently to the floor. She was about to reach for his coin purse when a sound froze her colder than Atmora. She spun.

She was not the only shadow in the room. Her trained eyes barely made out a set of midnight leathers, identical to hers, in the dark room. A hand moved to pull back figure’s hood.

Hollow green eyes bore her down.

 

“Ae— Aerisif?” Brynjolf choked.

 

Aerisif went numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll KNEW I wouldn't tag this with Brynjolf and have him actually be dead. Chapter 3 nearly ready to go live, should be within the week!


	3. Two Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a little longer to get right. Hope you all like it!

“Is it really you, lass?” Brynjolf pulled off his hood and cowl.

Aerisif’s blood stained dagger clattered to the floor. Her whole body was trembling. She managed to pull off her hood, revealing her raven hair and silvery eyes, before she began to fall.

A strong pair of arms caught her.

Aerisif clung to Brynjolf as he lowered them both to the floor, leaning against the small bed, neither releasing the other.

With tender hands, Brynjolf pulled down Aerisif’s cowl, revealing the rest of her face. “Gods. Gods, it’s you. You’re alive.” Brynjolf croaked.

Aerisif still trembled, but gripped his arms even tighter. “You didn’t die,” she whispered, summoning the courage to look him in the eye. “You’re alive.” Blood was rushing through her veins faster than she thought possible.

Brynjolf chuckled through choked sobs. “It will take more than a few Imperials to take me down,” He stroked her hair and sniffed. “But how did you survive? Helgen burned,” his face turned somber again. “I searched for you.” Fresh tears from old wounds sprouted in his eyes. “When word got out that both Tullius and Ulfric survived a dragon attack at Helgen, I went to them both.” He spoke slowly, as if each word brought him pain.“If they had been there, they might have seen you. Tullius had no knowledge of you whatsoever. Ulfric told me that he had seen you escape the first inferno, but couldn’t say whether you had made it out beyond that.”

Aerisif rested her head on Brynjolf’s shoulder as he continued. “I kept searching. I even went to Helgen, to search for your body, but the corpses…” He shuddered. “There was no way to know.” Brynjolf let a sob escape. “After a while, when there was no sign of you, I…I lost hope.”

The two held each other in silence for a moment, but the tenderness soon turned to tension. “Why did you not come home?” Brynjolf whispered.

_Where do I even begin?_ Aerisif felt her heart in throat. “I…” she cleared her throat. “I thought you were dead. One of the prisoners, he said they killed you. It was my fault,” Hot tears were overflowing from her eyes. She could feel Brynjolf looking at her, but she couldn’t face his stare. “I killed you. I was responsible, and I couldn’t live with myself for that.” She breathed in deep. “I was sent to Helgen to be executed and I wanted to die.” Aerisif shivered. She had never said that aloud before, that truth. Giving voice to it was powerful. She almost laughed. _Of course, my voice gives power to anything._

She was pulled from her thoughts as Brynjolf cupped her face and turned her head so he could look her in the eyes. “Lass,” he breathed. “You were not responsible. No one could have blamed you, had I died.”

Aerisif began to stammer an argument, but Brynjolf quieted her with a kiss on her forehead softer than a butterfly. Her chest burst with flickering torchbugs at his touch. “It wasn’t your fault.” He rested his forehead on hers, and she soaked in the intimacy. _Gods, I had forgotten this feeling,_ Aerisif realized. _To be loved._ The sweetness of his touch soured to poison in her stomach as it mingled with her guilt and shame.

“You can’t know that. If you had died by my own carelessness, which I thought you did, Delvin and Vex and the Guild would never trust me again. I couldn’t bear it… it was easier to be dead. It was easier to not exist than it was to mourn you.” Her voice was fragile. The tears streamed down her face again.

Brynjolf pulled her into his chest. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m alive, you’re alive.” He stroked her hair. Aerisif’s breath was choppy as she tried to hold back the emotion caught in her throat. She thought she might suffocate from the shame she felt.

“How did,” She caught her breath. “How did you survive? He told me he saw you die.”

Brynjolf inhaled and tore one arm away to run his fingers through his hair. The thief was grateful Aerisif could not see his face as he struggled to answer.

_What do I tell her?_ “It’s true, the wound that Imperial dealt should have killed me. While they were packing up camp, I tried to break us both out, and like you, I was caught. As it turns out, Imperials are made of sturdier stuff than jail guards. One ran her sword through me and left me to die in the woods while they rolled out to Helgen.” He stopped and rubbed his hand over his abdomen. “I thought it was the end.”

Aerisif looked up at his broken face. With shaky breath, he continued on. “I passed out from the blood loss, and I don’t know how long I was out. I would have died there, but for the priest who found my half dead body in the dirt.” _That’s not…wholly untrue._ Brynjolf released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

She pulled him closer. “Perhaps we ought to steal less from the temples, then.” She attempted a smile.

Brynjolf broke away suddenly. “But you!” He look bewildered. “How did you survive Helgen? And a dragon attack? And what have you been doing since?”

Aerisif felt her head tingle. What to say to him?

She inhaled slowly and focused on a knot in the wood floor. “I was laid down on the headman’s block,” she began shakily, “When the dragon landed on the tower above. And somehow, I moved out of the way before he set ablaze where I had just been.”

She worried at the end of a strap on her boots as she continued, still unable to meet his eyes. “Something changed in me when I saw that dragon. Suddenly I didn’t want to die anymore.” She swallowed. “Never stopped resenting myself for that,” Aerisif felt Brynjolf’s expression deepen but still could not bear to see what his features held. “I made it out with the help of a Stormcloak, Ralof I think. We realized that Riverwood was in imminent danger, and I went on to Whiterun to warn the Jarl. While there, another dragon attacked.”

Brynjolf sucked in his breath. “That’s a lot of dragon in a short period.”

Aerisif had to let out a laugh. “Yes, it certainly is.” She paused, unsure of how to continue. “You were all aware of the return of the dragons? Down in the Guild?”

“How could we not? In addition to the war and Thalmor giving our business trouble, now there are dragons to boot! Aye, lass, we knew about the dragons.”

She drummed up the strength to face him again. “Did you know why?”

Brynjolf scratched his head. “I did hear some madman in the Vaults say it was the end of the world, or the World-Eater? Some nonsense like that.”

“Did he mention Alduin? Or a Dragonborn?”

Brynjolf thought a moment, then looked at Aerisif curiously. “Aye, he did. Reminded me of my days as a boy, hearing the superstitious old women talk about the legend of the Dragonborn. How do you know this?”

Aerisif looked down, swallowed, and fixed him with her steely eyes. “It’s all true, Brynjolf, all of it. It’s me. I’m the Dragonborn.”

He looked at her blankly for a moment. “It’s real? Alduin? The end of the world?”

Aerisif nodded solemnly.

“And you…you’re the Dragonborn?”

She nodded again.

Brynjolf blinked, and it seemed as if his thoughts were somewhere else. “Lass?” he finally asked.

Aerisif gulped. “Yes?”

“Stay with me tonight,” Brynjolf pleaded.

Aerisif started to panic. “I…I can’t face the Guild, Bryn. It’s too much, I only just found you, I can’t—“

Brynjolf cut her off with a hand. “Not in the cistern. We can use Riftweald, the Guild still hasn’t found a use for it.”

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Let’s go.”

Without a single word or exchanged glance, the pair of thieves looted the corpse. Aerisif delicately removed the blood encrusted pendants from the bandit’s thick neck while Brynjolf cut the coin purse from his belt in one slick move. Aerisif checked the chest in the room and Brynjolf patted the dead man down for any more treasure. Satisfied that they had collected what there was to rob, they stood.

Aerisif studied the mess on the floor. “Sorry, Keerava,” she whispered, and two shadows slipped from the room, hiding their features under their midnight leathers.

Sneaking through the quieting tavern and out the door, Brynjolf and Aerisif found Riften to be silent and asleep. They padded across the boarded walkway toward Riften’s stone residences.

_Is this really happening?_ Aerisif head spun as she struggled to process the night. She had long abandoned hope in her heart that Brynjolf lived. She had changed so much since Helgen, transformed.

They arrived at the shadowed doorstep quickly. Brynjolf turned the key in the lock, and they both slipped inside. Brynjolf straightened once safely inside, and removed his hood once again. Aerisif did the same.

Brynjolf grabbed two bottles from a shelf. “Some mead, I think,” He handed Aerisif a bottle and motioned to the nearby table. Brynjolf sat across from her and sighed heavily.

“So you’re the Dragonborn,” he said softly.

“I am.” Aerisif tensed. She had never imagined how this conversation would go. She had never imagined having it.

Brynjolf looked down. The room fell silent again.

“Bryn, it’s okay,” Aerisif started, upon seeing the pain in Brynjolf’s face.

“I can’t lose you again.” Brynjolf’s voice shook with emotion but his eyes were full of resolve. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ve got coin, I’ll buy you the best mercenaries in Skyrim. I’ll put on the heavy armor, learn how to bear a shield. Train with the Companions, if I can.”

“No, Bryn, you don’t understand —“

“I know the legends. It’s either you or the World-Eater. I’ve spent years mourning you for no reason. I’ll not do that any longer. If you’re going down, I’m going with you. We’ll face the end together —“

“Brynjolf, it’s done.” She fixed him with a hard stare. “Alduin…Alduin is taken care of.”

Brynjolf froze and look her in the eye. “It’s done?”

“I killed him. Alduin.”

Brynolf’s jaw dropped for a moment, before he regained his composure. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it, reconsidering his words. After repeating this a few times, he finally found his speech. “This is a lot to take in.” He ran his fingers through his red hair, matted down from his hood.

Aerisif scoffed and looked him square in the eye. “Tell me about it.”

A few moments passed silently, each engrossed in their thoughts.

“So can you…shout? Like the legends?”

Aerisif thought about it, then stood and turned to the empty fireplace. “Yol!” A stream of fire burst from her and shot to the hearth, igniting the dormant logs and filling the room with heat.

Brynjolf dropped his jaw, and did not regain composure this time.

Power pulsed through Aerisif’s veins. The dragon within her was awake and rearing _,_ ready to set the whole city ablaze.

Brynjolf had closed his mouth but continued to watch her with wide eyes. Another moment of silence.

Finally he spoke, in a whisper. “Shor’s bones, I’m glad you’re on our side.” He smiled roguishly.

Aerisif returned the smile, sat down, and took a long draught of her mead. She latched her silver eyes on his. “Brynjolf?” Her voice was timid.

“Lass?”

“You really went to Ulfric and Tullius to find me after Helgen?” She blushed.

Brynjolf smiled and his chest swelled. “Aye, lass, I did. Not as Guild Second, of course. As a concerned citizen of Skyrim. The guards tried to deny me an audience, but I can be quite…convincing, you know,” His eyes sparkled and he smirked. As quickly as pride had flashed across his face, it disappeared. “I searched every corner of Skyrim for you, but I never did find you. How is that lass? I know you’re a talented sneak, I trained you myself. But you just… disappeared.”

Aerisif looked down at her mead, squirming in her wooden chair. “After Helgen, I became someone else. Took a new name. I wore a helm most of the time to hide my face. No one who knew me as Aerisif the Thief would recognize me.”

Brynjolf nodded. “Ahh. So who did you become?”

She fiddled with the label on the bottle. “Kjolti.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t mean Kjolti Stone-Vein?”

“Aye.”

“ _You’re_ Kjolti Stone-Vein?” Brynjolf’s voice was buzzing with astonishment.

“What of it?”

Brynjolf burst into a deep chested laugh. “The rumors of your prowess have spread even here.” His eyes were bright. “And those rumors were quickly followed by tales of your riches. So affluent you are rumored to be, that I’ve got three different thieves trying to track you down as a mark!” He succumbed to a laughing fit.

Aerisif joined him, letting herself truly laugh since… _since becoming the Dragonborn?_ It felt good to laugh. Freeing. Some unknown bindings inside her broke loose.

“Ahh, the Guild is going to get a kick out of this,” Brynjolf sighed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Trying to rob from their own Guild Master!”

Aerisif’s laughter faded and she fixated on a knot in the wood floor. “Right,” she said absentmindedly.

Brynjolf’s face fell. “Lass?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it?”

“What’s what?” She shifted and tried to hide her face lest it give her away, but Brynjolf caught her arm and turned her to look at him. His eyes were full of concern. _Oh, those damned eyes._

“What is it that’s making you shiftier than a rotten thief?”

Aerisif sighed. “I…I don’t know. I only just got you back. I’m not sure I’m ready to face the whole guild. I let that part of me die at Helgen, with you. To try to explain why I didn’t come home…Gods, and I don’t even know where to begin about being Dragonborn.” She trembled.

Brynjolf considered her words silently. Aerisif watched him as he mulled over what she had said, feeling a tightness pull across her chest.

“I won’t say a word to the Guild, lass. This is your story to tell. When you’re ready, I’ll be by your side.”

She relaxed. “Thank you, Bryn.”

“But you will have to tell them eventually.”

Aerisif was startled. She opened her mouth, found no words, and shut it again.

Brynjolf continued. “They’ll find out. It may have been fate or just chance that brought us together tonight,” he frowned. “Actually, what did bring you back tonight lass? That wasn’t our work, that brought you here.” He eyed her carefully. “What have you got yourself into?”

She turned to Brynjolf and met his eyes. “I’m in the Dark Brotherhood.” The words spilled out.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?”

A moment passed. Aerisif felt the pressure in her rising, unsure of what Brynjolf would think of her newest profession.

And then, when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, he spoke. “I think Delvin used to be sweet on a lass there.”

Aerisif nodded. “Astrid. She got married. But they’re both dead now. The Penitus Oculatus,” she quickly added, seeing Brynjolf’s wide eyed expression. “I didn’t kill them,” _Well, that’s not wholly untrue._

_“_ Hmm. So what was that poor soul’s story?”

“Killed some woman’s daughter, I think. I hardly keep track of the contracts anymore, it’s all the same. Why were you waiting for him, in full Nightingale regalia?”

Brynjolf forced a smile and a scoff. “Ah, you know it as well as I. That hefty coin purse he was carrying seemed too heavy, and I thought to relieve him of it.”

Aerisif frowned and cocked her head. “But you’re too good of a pickpocket to need to hide in his room. Why did you follow him up?”

“I would have stolen his coin in the tavern. I entered just as Svana left, and the mark was heading up the stairs. I thought my eyes were failing me, but it looked like a shadow followed him.”

Aerisif nodded and shuffled her empty mead bottle between her hands.

Brynjolf reached out and grabbed the bottle mid slide. Aerisif looked up to see his emerald green eyes locked on hers.

“Aerisif. Why don’t you want the Guild to know you’re back?”

Aerisif felt her throat tighten and the dragon shuffle its wings. _Flee,_ it said. _Take flight._ As much as she yearned to follow its command, she resisted. A mess of emotions swelled and crashed over her. Tears burst unbidden from her eyes, and Aerisif tried to blink them back, but to no avail.

Brynjolf reached across the table and clasped her hands. He stroked them patiently, waiting for her to answer, but his eyes never left hers.

Aerisif was crying. _What is the fucking function of tears?_ She cursed angrily inside, hating to show weakness. She recoiled at the realization. _This is Brynjolf! This is home. You can be weak with him. He is safe._

Teary and red eyed, she looked up at him. “I died, Brynjolf.” He waited for her to explain and Aerisif struggled to take her breath back from the sobs that shook her chest. “I told you I took a new name after the first dragon attack, but its much more than that. I let Aerisif die in Helgen. I killed off who I was and just became who I needed to be. It was easier. The weight of it all was too much. I had already lost my birth family, and when you died, my Guild family died too. I couldn’t bear the pain, so I chose not to.”

Brynjolf stood and stepped around the table to Aerisif, and lifted her from her seat. She was so light, looked so fragile. He held her up and drew her close. Aerisif stood limp against him, not returning his embrace as Brynjolf expected. Dismayed, he stepped back.

It was silent but for the crackling fire. Aerisif had regained her breath but still sniffed.

“Do you want her back?” Brynjolf asked in a quiet voice.

“What?” Aerisif’s voice was thick from crying.

He met her eyes. _Those precious jewels,_ thought Aerisif.

“Do you want to be Aerisif again? To be Guild Master? Your old life is still here, waiting for you to return from that job in Falkreath years ago. Its yours for the taking, if you want it. I am here, if you want me. Or you can go on being Kjolti Stone-Vein, and we can pretend this never happened.” Brynjolf’s voice broke on the last sentence and he looked down, trying to hide his face.

Aerisif sighed. _What do I want? Why have I been hiding from who I am?_ _Am I even living?_ She inhaled and tried to clear her mind as the Greybeards taught her for meditating.

_I’ve been denying myself so much. Safety. Friendship. Love. I live to make the next kill._

She shifted. _I’m not living. I’m just surviving because that’s what I know._

_I was trying to protect everyone. It was my job to, but I’ve taken it too far. I’ve been trying to protect them from me. But that’s not how it works. All I’ve been doing is crippling myself, weakening myself under a false banner of strength._

The idea of letting down these walls she built made her squirm. _Why have I done this to myself?_

The answer came to her.

_Fear._

It had been gripping her for so long. She had been afraid since her parents died, and she had been fighting it with everything she knew. Aerisif first tried so hard not to show fear, and then to just not be afraid anymore. Once she set off on her own as Dragonborn, she tried to eliminate any emotional ties. If she had nothing to lose, then she had nothing to fear.

_I tried to cut loose what I thought to be dead weight, but ended up shackling myself down. What sort of life is that?_

_I get to live. I fought and slew Alduin so that everyone on Nirn gets to live._

_Why am I wasting that?_ She thought for a moment of all those that died in her journey, and shuddered. _Life is too precious._

She looked up at Brynjolf, towering over her. She breathed him in and smiled, pulling him into the embrace she had resisted earlier.

“I’ve been alone for so long.” His crestfallen face began to mingle with uncertainty. “I thought I had to be. I thought I had to bear this burden of my blood alone, that I could protect everyone by fighting alone.” She paused, her face growing grim. “But I learned I can’t. People die all around me, and it doesn’t seem to matter whether they’re fighting with me or not. I can’t save everyone. And that’s what I’ve been so afraid of, losing those I care about. But I’m done being afraid of what I can’t control.”

Brynjolf’s eyes were locked on hers, waiting for her next words.

“I want to be here, Brynjolf. I want to be Aerisif, Guild Master. Aerisif, with Brynjolf.”

His face burst into smile. Brynjolf held Aerisif’s face in his hands and drew their lips together, working his fingers in her hair. Aerisif felt her body ignite with the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, soaking in the taste of him.

When they released the kiss, Brynjolf picked up Aerisif and spun her around, and she giggled and clung tightly to him. He smoothly tucked his arm under her legs, and holding her small frame in his arms, carried her off to the bedroom up the stairs. He set her down on the bed and wrapped himself around her.

The two thieves lay close to one another for a long while, basking in the simple joy of the other’s presence. Aerisif was falling asleep as Brynjolf stroked her midnight hair. _This is perfection,_ he thought.

Just as Brynjolf was beginning to drift to sleep, the amulet that he wore deep under his armor began to burn against his skin. Icy fear gripped his chest. His eyes popped open wide.

_Gods, no. Not now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to keep this going!
> 
> Side note: I typo'd "dad body" instead of "dead body" once or twice and I thought it was hilarious. "Aerisif looked down at the dad body" had me CACKLING. Okay I'm done now, Chapter 4 needs drafting...


	4. Secrets in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took awhile too, life is keeping me busier. Hope you all like this one! 
> 
> Also, just rediscovered that Shadowmere is dark brown and not black, and, in the canon, is in fact a male and not female like I've been writing. Sorry for the anachronisms. But whatever, its the internet and its my fic, so Shadowmere is pitch black and a fierce female, okay?

Brynjolf slowly untangled himself from Aerisif, taking great pains not to disturb her. He stood at the side of the bed, holding his breath as she shifted in her sleep. Once certain she would not stir, Brynjolf slipped away.

The elven forged amulet continued to burn against his chest. Its enchanted heat left no mark on his skin, but would continue to radiate heat until Brynjolf answered its call. The thief silently opened the front door and back into the night.

Dawn was still about two hours away, he judged by the sky. _Just enough time,_ Brynjolf estimated. He wanted nothing more than to spend the night with Aerisif and be there when she woke up. It felt like betrayal, leaving her alone like this. _What choice do I have?_

Outside the city walls, Brynjolf adopted a hurried pace to the southwest of Riften. He suddenly wished he had a full blade with him, rather than just the dagger he wore at his hip. Instinctively, he increased his awareness around him, sensitive to any sound of approaching foes or beasts.

The lone mount protruding in the Rift grew larger before him. Soon he could no longer see the peak, even when tilting his head back. Brynjolf approached the jagged rocks and searched. A moment later he found the painted symbol pointing westward. He followed its arrow further until the mouth of the cave appeared before him.

Brynjolf inhaled slowly, then entered. The pathway was narrow, only leaving about an inch between Brynjolf’s frame and the cold rock walls. Now accustomed to the nature of the path, Brynjolf’s feet had no trouble navigating the rocks, foliage, and traps hidden in the dark. Soon the flicker of torchlight shimmered on the walls. Voices echoed off the stones, disembodied.

Brynjolf strode on, nearly to the cavernous room when he called out. “Veladar!” He roared.

Several High Elves were bent over a table, but looked up at Brynolf’s arrival. Two wore full sets of golden Elven armor, gleaming in the reflected torchlight, and put their hands on the hilts of their swords upon seeing the thief enter. The third, wearing immaculate Thalmor robes, waved them off.

“If it isn’t our favorite associate,” Veladar’s voice was cold and condescending. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Brynjolf pulled the hot amulet from under his armor and held it out. “You know damned well why I’m here, Veladar. What’s the job you summoned me out here for at this ungodly hour?”

Veladar sighed disdainfully. “You Nords and your lack of manners. Is this how you greet your patrons? Its no wonder your “ _guild”_ has been in such dire straits. No, you will use the proper respect when addressing a Thalmor official.” With the last statement, Veladar release a bolt of lightning from his hand at Brynjolf.

The thief cried out and fell to his knees, panting.

Veladar’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “That’s more like it.” The elf clasped his hands behind his back and walked over to the table. “Now, as you are so eager to get to business, let us move on to the details. You will steal the Jarl Siddgeir’s Circlet, and plant this note and this ring as evidence. Go now. You have one week to complete this task. If it is not done, or done incorrectly, expect our full force.” The Thalmor officer turned his back and returned to his business.

Brynjolf regained his breath and stood. He picked up the forged letter and the ring bearing the Stormcloack sigil from the top of the barrel that Veladar indicated. He opened the letter, scanning the words quickly.

_It’s time we taught that petulant fool sitting on the Falkreath throne his place. Steal his circlet, and watch how the child throws a tantrum at the loss of a shiny trinket. You will be rewarded generously for your efforts in freeing Skyrim and her people._

In place of a signature, the Stormcloack claw mark was inked at the bottom of the page. Fixing the Thalmor with a poisonous look, Brynjolf turned and left the cave.

***

Aerisif stirred and stretched. She had slept so deeply and so comfortably. Rolling over to kiss Brynjolf, she found the space next to her empty.

She sat up and looked around the room. No sign of him. Her heart began to pound. _Where did he go? Did something happen?_

She slid from the soft sheets and began to move across the room. Something was off, she could feel it. Aerisif felt her skin chafe against her leathers and regretted sleeping in her armor.

The sound of the front door closing made Aerisif draw her dagger and crouch low. She crept out of the bedroom and sidled along the hall. Someone was in the house and trying hard not to be heard. Her heart pulsed. _Danger, danger,_ it beat. Someone was approaching the stairs.

Aerisif tucked into the shadows and waited. The person climbed the steps slowly and quietly. Aerisif tensed, and then pounced.

“Gods! Aerisif, its just me!” Brynjolf cried out.

She managed to shift her weight in time to sink her dagger into the wood rail instead. Aerisif crumbled.

“Fuck, Brynjolf, I’m so sorry!” She shook. “I didn’t see you when I woke, and I thought the worst, and—“

Brynjolf crouched down next to her. He was wearing the fine robes he usually wore topside, and looked weary. “No harm done, lass.” He smiled weakly. “Glad to see your instincts are still up to snuff.”

She nodded. “Where did you go?” Her gray eyes were like wide moons.

Brynjolf held up a basket of sweet rolls and ale. “Breakfast!” He said cheerily. “I assume your tastes haven’t changed?”

Aerisif smiled and grabbed a bottle of ale in response.

The two ate breakfast in a compromised peace. Aerisif felt awful for nearly attacking Brynjolf, regardless of what he said. Brynjolf was glad to have a reason not to talk.

Hunger satisfied, Aerisif stood. She took a shaky breath. “You were right, last night. The Guild will find out one way or another. You’ve trained them too well to not notice the presence of a stranger in Riften, and I can’t hide in here forever. I’ve got some business to take care of, but I’ll meet you all in the Cistern soon.”

Brynjolf examined Aerisif’s face. It was stony with resolve. He nodded. “I’ll gather the lot.”

Aerisif exhaled, then nodded to herself. She turned and walked back up the stairs, and out to the back balcony.

The morning air was dewey and fresh. Aerisif closed her eyes and breathed in. She could catch a hint of the perfumed blossoms from the trees.

_It’s nice to be home._

Carefully standing on the rail, Aerisif pulled herself up to the roof. She looked over its peak at the market. A few shoppers around, but the city was still waking up. She crouched low to the tiled roof as she crept across the neighboring rooftops, toward the city’s edge.

One leap had Aerisif on top of the stone wall, and a second dropped her lightly on the ground outside of it. She stood and got her bearings. The Riften Stables were just ahead, and Shadowmere stood lazily in one of the stalls. A gray and white dappled mare stood a few strides away, looking quite disgruntled at her eviction but clearly too afraid of the newcomer to do anything about it.

Aerisif laughed and walked over to the dark horse. “You aren’t playing very nice, are you?” She tickled Shadowmere’s chin. The horse stomped a heavy hoof in response.

Aerisif loosened the straps of the saddle and took her enchanted pack and greatsword. She scratched Shadowmere’s neck and stood on her tiptoes to get closer to the horse’s ears. “We’re going to stay, Shadowmere,” she whispered excitedly.

Shadowmere looked at Aerisif, blinked, and turned to munch on some fresh hay in the corner. Aerisif chuckled again, then ducked behind the stables to change.

When she reemerged, Kjolti Stone-Vein was decked out in a a full set of ebony armor. Her crimson and ebony greatsword strapped to her back completed her intimidating appearance. Aerisif swung her pack over her shoulder and pulled her helm over her head. She adjusted the metal so she could see properly, then walked into the small structure that housed the stable master.

He looked startled at the visitor. Aerisif dropped a bag of gold onto his table. “This is to board the black mare, and to see that no harm comes to her.” She dropped another coin purse in front of him, heavier than the first. “This is for the trouble she’ll cause you. See that she’s well cared for, and there’s more where this came from.”

Wide eyed and speechless, the stable master nodded. Aerisif turned and left. Once outside, she headed toward the gates.

The pair of Riften guards exchanged a glance. One stepped toward her.

“Halt, traveller. Before I left you in, you must pay the visitor’s tax.”

Aerisif smiled under her ebony helm. “No, I don’t think I will be. Open the gates.” She commanded.

The other guard nervously pulled his partner aside. “Hjarn, I don’t think we want to do this—“

The first guard put a hand on his partner’s chest. He turned back to Aerisif. His voice became more threatening. “I’m warning you, _traveller,_ pay the tax or do not enter the city at all.”

Aerisif sighed, and drew her scarlet and crimson greatsword. She held it firmly, but did not take up a fighting stance. Instead, she slowly walked up to the offending guard, till she was right up in front of him. She could see his wide and jumpy eyes through his helm, like cornered prey. A slight tremor became visible on the guard. She smiled under her helm.

“Move. Or be eliminated.” She said in a low, deliberate voice.

The guards scrambled to open the gates for her.

Aerisif smirked, sheathing her massive blade, and strode confidently through the Riften gates.

_Now that’s far more like it._ The dragon in her chest hummed greedily.

Finding the taste of power pleasing on her tongue, Aerisif strut into the city with her head held high. She noted Maul at his usual post, eyeing her with suspicion. She ignored his gaze and carried onward.

A few heads in the marketplace turned to look at the dark stranger in their town. Some sensed danger and immediately looked away. A beggar gaped. Mjoll perked up at the murmurs and assessed the heavily armored woman. She stood fierce, unsure if the newcomer was friend or foe.

Aerisif descended the wooden steps to the canal. She could enter the Cistern through the secret mausoleum entrance, but that would likely incite instant attack, as she looked a like an enemy. Instead, she would enter through the Ratway. And if her blade tasted blood on the way, that was fine too.

She found the Ratway to be mostly deserted of life. Only a few skeevers disrupted her path, and were dispatched with lazy swipes of her blade. Aerisif traced the steps of a younger woman, searching for the Thieves’ Guild for the first time. How different a person she was now.

It wasn’t long before Aerisif reached the door to the Flagon. She hesitated a moment, then pushed the door open.

***

“Wake them all up.” Brynjolf’s command rang out.

Delvin and Vex shared a sleepy, perplexed glance. “What the fuck is so important at this damnable hour, Brynjolf?” Delvin yawned.

“You’ll see. Guild Meeting in the Cistern. Trust me.”

Delvin scratched his chin. “Whatever you say, boss.” He stood and began waking the other thieves.

Vex looked mutinous, but growled compliance and went on her way.

Brynjolf’s heart was pounding. How would they take the news? Would they be as glad and receptive as he, or angry and hurt, like Aerisif feared?

In a matter of minutes, sleepy thieves stumbled into the Cistern. Some had only come in from jobs a few hours before. Others had risen earlier, to pick the pockets of the morning shoppers.

Brynjolf was surprised to see Karliah stride towards him.

“Karliah,” he called. “So glad to see you.”

The Dark Elf nodded solemnly. “I had a dream. Nocturnal spoke to me, told me I should come to the Cistern this morning. Not the way she usually contacts me, but I wouldn’t dare ignore it.” She surveyed the room, crossing her arms. “What’s all this about?”

Brynjolf shifted. “Guild meeting. You’ve got good timing.”

Thieves were swapping groggy stories of the previous night’s victories, breaking bread, passing bottles of mead and ale. The mood in the room was friendly, but curious.

_Get here soon, lass._ Brynjolf paced in the shadows.

_***_

Aerisif entered the Flagon and breathed it in. It did not smell as refreshing as the Riften air did, but it bore the sweetness of familiarity to her.

_It’s good to be home,_ Aerisif smiled.

Dirge stood looming at the edge of the Flagon, shifting impatiently, waiting to deny access to this newcomer. Aerisif strut towards him.

“You have no business here, stranger.” Dirge barked. “Leave now.”

Aerisif stopped just a pace from the mountainous man. Her proximity made him nervous, she could see it in his eyes.

“Night among strangers. Secrets in the dark.” The silky words dripped off her tongue.

Dirge blinked, surprised and uncertain, but he uncrossed his arms and stepped aside. Aerisif strode past him a few paces, stopped, and turned her ebony clad head toward him.

“Come. Don’t keep your Guild Master waiting.” She continued on. Dirge stewed a moment, but followed.

The handful of thieves still lingering in the Flagon looked at the dark stranger with intrigue. Vekel shrugged and ushered them into the Cistern behind her.

The Cistern was ringing with conversations, but silenced when the stranger entered and wordlessly took her place on the center platform, in the only natural light the room had. Brynjolf joined her. She nodded to him.

Brynjolf cleared his throat. “I have worn the title Guild Master for several years now, since the day you all decided it should be mine. But as of today, right now, I will no longer serve you all as Guild Master.”

A murmur spread through the cavern. Some cried out in surprise. Vex blurted out a “what the fuck?”

Delvin stood. “Brynjolf, mate, what are you going on about? You didn’t pull us all from our beds just to tell us you quit?”

Brynjolf shook his head. “I know no life other than this, Delvin. I’m a thief through and through. But its time I return to my post as Guild Second. I present, your Guild Master.”

At that, Aerisif pulled the ebony helmet from her head and shook loose her raven locks.

Cries rang out from all around. Echoes of “its Aerisif!” and “she’s alive!” spread through the Cistern.

She silenced them with a hand. Taking a shaky breath, she began to speak.

“When Brynjolf and I were captured in Falkreath, I was taken to Helgen. To be executed. I thought Brynjolf to be dead, and I responsible for the death of your Guild Second. The guilt alone could have killed me. As you can clearly see, I did not die in Helgen, as so many did. But I was reborn. I emerged from that massacre Kjolti Stone-Vein, Dragonborn.”

The gathered thieves murmured in surprise. Aerisif continued on.

“If you’ve been topside at all since I disappeared, you’ll likely know that name. If you know the Nord legend of the Dragonborn, you’ll know that it was my destiny to destroy the World-Eater, Alduin. I spent the years since I left doing that. The dragon crisis is over, and my job as Dragonborn is done.”

The dragon in her chest ruffled its wings and snorted indignantly.

“I am sorry. I was afraid of returning, of being blamed for Brynjolf’s death. I was afraid of being the downfall of the Guild. I have wronged you all. I promised to lead this Guild into prosperity. I promised riches and gold and gems. I didn’t follow through on that, and I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, a gangly youth in ill-fitting brown Guild leathers burst into the Cistern. He ran up to Brynjolf, out of breath. “Boss!” He gasped. “Boss, I found her. Kjolti Stone-Vein is here in the city!”

Aerisif smirked. “Gods, Bryn, did you even let this one grow out of Honorhall first?” she jabbed just loud enough for him to hear.

Brynjolf shot her an exasperated look and then impatiently turned to the youth. “Does she look something like her, lad?”

The footpad turned and looked at Aerisif for the first time. He nodded. “Yeah, kinda like her!”

Aerisif chuckled. Brynjolf sighed. “Go sit down, lad.”

“But Brynjolf—“

“Sit. Down.” The young man did as he was told.

Aerisif turned to the crowd again. “You have a choice. I’ve laid my mistakes out on the table. I don’t share my other identity with you lightly. I trust you all with my life, and I’m handing it to you. There are those that are looking for me, to either take advantage of or eliminate the power I hold. You could sell me out, and I would understand. I messed this all up. Or, you can give me another chance. If you’ll forgive me, if you’ll trust me, I would be Guild Master once again, and finish the job I started here.”

Delvin stood and walked toward the illuminated platform.

“Are you really th’ Dragonborn?”

Aerisif turned toward some target dummies. “Fus, Roh, Dah!” She shouted. The dummies clattered against each other, smashed against the stone wall, and splashed into the water.

A chorus of “Gods!” and “Fuck!” and “Shor’s Bones!” echoed around the Cistern.

Delvin raised his eyebrows and nodded, impressed. He turned back to Aerisif and extended his hand, and she shook it. “Welcome back, boss.” His voice rang through the Cistern.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Vex launched herself from the shadows into Aerisif, fists flying. Aerisif let herself roll into the shallow waters with Vex, dodging punches and throwing some of her own. The two women grappled fiercely.

The gangly youth took a step toward them. “Should we do something?” He said in a panic.

“NO.” Brynjolf and Delvin both placed a hand on the youth’s chest to keep him from the fray.

“Don’t need anymore bloodshed than necessary here.” Delvin muttered, not taking his eyes off the scuffle.

In the water, Vex and Aerisif continued to fight. A fist to the side of a head. A knee to a stomach. Aerisif’s ears rang after a well placed blow. Vex had a steady stream of blood flowing from her nose. They splashed and rolled. Aerisif pulled Vex under the water, allowing her head up for desperate gasps of air. Th ebony clad woman had the extra weight on her side. She had Vex pinned down, head barely above water. Vex struggled against her, but Aerisif was too strong. Aerisif had her. Vex snarled at Aerisif. Aerisif growled back.

A tense moment passed, both women panting. The Guild was watching with bated breath.

Vex’s bared teeth eased into a smile. “Welcome home, sister.”

Aerisif released Vex and stretched out an arm to help her up. “It’s good to be home.” Vex took her arm and pulled herself out of the water and into an embrace.

“We need to talk,” she whispered into Aerisif’s ear. Aerisif frowned, but gave a subtle nod. They separated, and sloshing, pulled themselves out of the water.

“Anyone else care to challenge me?” Aerisif roared, but the broad smile on her face was disarming.

A few laughs, a few “hell no’s” were heard around the room. “Good, then back to business as usual. Go steal something!” Aerisif called after them.

Aerisif turned to Delvin. “Thank you, back then. The Guild trusts your judgement. Your accepting me went a long way back there.”

Delvin brushed it off. “Ah, its nothin’. Just glad for things to get back the way they were. Oy! Does “business as usual” mean that we’re still pretending that you and Brynjolf aren’t fuckin’?”

Aerisif whipped her head to Brynjolf. “You told him!”

Brynjolf raised his hands apologetically. “I thought you were dead, remember?”

Delvin chuckled. “Ah, forget it. No one cares.”

Aerisif was distraught. “But isn’t it weird—“

Delvin cut her off. “No, its not weird and no one cares. Dirge and Vipir have been fuckin’ for years, and you know what? No one cares.”

Dirge shouted from a shadow of the Cistern, while Vipir looked just as shocked.

Delvin called out, “Yeah, I know about you lot too!” He chuckled. “Why does everyone think they can keep secrets in this damned hole?” He walked away, still laughing.

Aerisif caught Vex standing in a dark doorway off of the Cistern, and saw her slip inside.

“I’ll be back,” She pushed past Brynjolf, who seemed confused but carried on regardless.

Once she entered the dark room, Vex slid the door bar shut behind her. Aerisif remember another time long ago when Vex had locked her in this room. She shook off the memory and turned to the thief.

“What is it?”

Vex wore a disgruntled look. “Something is up with your lover.”

Aerisif stammered.

Vex cut her off. “I really don’t give a damn what you two do or call each other. This is serious. Brynjolf has been dealing in some shady business, even for us.”

Aerisif frowned. “What kind of shady business?”

“I’m not really sure. He goes on mysterious jobs all across Skyrim, and won’t tell anyone else where he’s going or what the job is, let alone who the client is.”

“What’s the big deal about that? As long as he’s bringing in coin, who cares who the client is?”

“That’s the problem. He’s not bringing in coin. I’ve been keeping careful track of our coffers ever since the Mercer incident. There’s not a coin that goes in or out of that chamber that I don’t know about. Brynjolf comes back from these jobs empty handed. I confronted him about it once and I’ve never seen him so defensive. He nearly threatened to kill me if I asked him about it again. An empty threat, of course, since we all know I could take him, but its the presence of the threat that’s concerning to me.”

Aerisif nodded, trying to take this all in.

“What’s more, I think he’s tangled up in something big. I don’t have any proof, but I think that he’s been stealing from those under Guild protection. Some of our guys topside say Maven is getting complaints. And we all know Maven won’t stick her neck out too far for us. You have to set this straight. You’re Guild Master, you have to fix this.”

Aerisif met Vex’s glowering stare. She had long ago stopped being intimidated by the pale woman. “I will.”

Vex appraised her, nodding. “Then get to it.” She slid back the door bar and the two women left the room.

_Brynjolf, what have you got yourself into?_


	5. Promise Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, THE LAST CHAPTER! 
> 
> Sorry this one took extra long. I had some other gigs come up, and I had to prioritize the paying gigs over the passion projects. I'm floored that this many people have bothered to read this at all, I've had so much fun creating this. The first of many!

Aerisif was crouched in the shadows, invisible. She had the perfect opportunity, but hated what she was about to do. Taking a silent, steadying breath, she reached into Brynjolf’s pockets.

The Guild Second was oblivious to his pocket being picked. Aerisif tenuously pulled out a folded piece of parchment, and caught a ring before it could clang on the stone floor. She released the breath she had been holding, and scanned the ink scrawled on the paper. Her eyes widened as she looked at the ring.

“Brynjolf what the _fuck_ is this?”

Brynjolf nearly jumped out of his skin. “Aerisif! What are you doing there?” He saw what she was holding and turned cross. The commotion had drawn the attention of Delvin and Vex, who silently strode over. “That’s personal, lass.” Brynjolf reached and snatched the paper from her, only to have it yanked from his hands by Delvin.

Delvin read the note, whistled low, and handed it to Vex. “Looks like we’re in some deep shit, boss,” Delvin said dryly. Vex read the note and slammed it angrily on the table.

Aerisif fixed Brynjolf with an iron glare. “Explain yourself. The Guild doesn’t take sides in the war.”

Brynjolf shifted uncomfortably. “It’s none of your business—“

“This is my guild. It most certainly is my business. Talk,” She commanded.

The red haired man bowed his head in defeat and sighed. “When we were captured in Falkreath,” he began slowly, “and I was left for dead, I said a priest revived me. That was only a fraction of the truth.”

Aerisif tensed.

“The ‘priest’ was more of one schooled in Restoration, and was one of a group of Thalmor that found me. They had seen that the Imperials had tried to eliminate me, and guessed I might be important in the war and revived me. Only to torture and question me,” Brynjolf shuddered slightly.

Aerisif, Delvin, and Vex all exchanged a glance.

“The Thalmor quickly found out about who I was, about the Guild, our members. Who we protect. Our location. I—I tried not to tell them, but I just couldn’t stand it—you don’t know what they can do, I—“

Aerisif put a comforting hand on Brynjolf’s shoulder, but said nothing. Vex crossed her arms impatiently.

Brynjolf continued. “I had revealed too much. They had a puppet and they knew it. Under threat of decimating the Guild, they’ve been forcing me to steal from Jarls and Thanes and other important citizens, and framing others for the crimes. Just to keep the war going.”

Aerisif felt her stomach turn. The Thalmor were the most despised of all the foes she fought.

Vex spat and swore. Delvin pondered a moment, then spoke. “That’s where you’ve been sneaking off to, innit? To get your fuckin’ orders.”

Brynjolf nodded and pulled out an amulet that gleamed like Elven armor. “They use this to communicate. It…it burns when they want me to come to them.”

“Where,” Vex spoke. It was not a question.

Brynjolf turned to face her. “It doesn’t concern you where.”

Vex growled. “I have a right to know what threatens this guild as much as you do, _traitor_.”

Aerisif shot Vex a warning look and turned to Brynjolf. “I need to know everything. Where are they, Brynjolf?”

Brynjolf ran his fingers through his hair. “There’s a cave southwest of the city. They’re holed up in there. Not far.”

Aerisif’s expression was stony. “What happens if you refuse?”

Brynjolf’s face turned grave and he aged years at the question. He answered in a strained voice. “They…they strike the Guild. I refused once…that’s when,” his voice broke, “Thats when they took Etienne. He was a warning shot to the Guild.” Brynjolf fought to keep the tears from spilling past his eyes.

“That was _your_ fault?!” Vex lunged, but Brynjolf rolled away. Delvin was shouting.

Aerisif quickly regretted not having this conversation in private as she realized a small gathering of guild members were nearby and eavesdropping.

Etienne’s face turned white, and he sank to the floor. Thrynn grabbed Brynjolf by the collar and tried to shake him, while Brynjolf threw a punch aimed at Thrynn’s face.

The dragon in Aerisif’s chest roared. _This will not do._

Aerisif unsheathed her sinister blade, gathered up her stamina, and slammed the blade down on the stone. A crimson streak of energy sliced open the air in front of the strike, making the very Cistern bleed. The resounding _clang_ of metal on stone cut through the din of the scuffle, and everyone froze. All eyes were on her. Delvin eyed Aerisif’s sword.

Blade still in hand, Aerisif stood tall and addressed the thieves around her. “We. Will. NOT. Be rent apart by infighting at a time like this. You would let the Thalmor win? Let them tear apart this Guild like they are trying to do to Skyrim? This is what they want! This is what they do! I will NOT have it.”

The only sound was the shallow water trickling around the Cistern. Thrynn released Brynjolf.

Aerisif continued. “There is only one option here. We will not be the puppets of the Thalmor. And I will not allow anyone else to be harmed by them. Get back to work, all of you.” The gathered thieves dispersed.

Delvin, Vex, and Brynjolf walked over to Aerisif. “What are you going to do?” Vex shot the question like an accusation.

Aerisif turned to Brynjolf. “Draw out a map of this cave.”

He sat down at the table and Aerisif hovered over his shoulder while he drew. “Right. So this is the entrance to the cave, its marked by a rune painted on the stone. Almost impossible to see it if you’re not looking for it, though.”

He drew a narrow, winding path from the mouth of the cave. “This hall is dangerous. There are natural hazards here, here, here, and here,” he circled. “And man made traps here, here, here, here, and here.” He drew x’s.

Aerisif’s eyes followed the dark lines on the page. “How big is the cave? Are there other entrances?”

Brynjolf continued to sketch lines out. “I’ve mostly only been in this area,” he motioned, “But I’ve seen at least three rooms off the main cave. And I suspect that there’s only the one entrance, but there is a small hole in the ceiling where light gets in, not unlike here in the Cistern. Not sure how big the opening is, but there is definitely sunlight there.”

Aerisif sighed. “Shouldn’t be surprising that they’ve got themselves a solidly defensible position.”

“How many of ‘em are there?” Delvin asked.

Brynjolf ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe six? Couldn’t be more than ten.”

Aerisif nodded, scanning the scrawled map and calculating in her head. Delvin was studying her closely.

“You’re thinkin’ about doin’ what I think you’re thinkin’ about doin’, aren’t you?” He asked.

She looked at him coldly. “That depends greatly on what you think I’m doing.”

“You’re plannin’ on goin’ in there alone.”

Aerisif rolled up the map and stood. “I _am_ going alone.”

Brynjolf, Delvin, and Vex all exploded into argument simultaneously.

“You’re mad!” Brynjolf’s eyes were wide.

“Are you out of your damned mind?” Delvin glared.

“That’s fucking stupid.” Vex crossed her arms.

Aerisif’s steel eyes were filled with fire. “I don’t give a _damn_ what you all think about it. I have handled far more than a few Thalmor by myself. I haven’t been running across Skyrim these past few years handing out fucking flowers, you know. This is what I do.”

“I’m going with you.” Brynjolf challenged.

“ _No_ , you are not. You will wait here.”

“If you’re seriously planning on going in alone, you’ve gotten a lot dumber since you left us.” Vex cut in. “This isn’t a job for one person.”

“She’s right, Aerisif.” Brynjolf crossed his arms. “You can’t do this by yourself.”

“We’re comin’ with you, boss, like it or not.”

Aerisif eyed them all carefully. She considered a moment, then spoke. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You three agreeing on something.”

Vex shrugged. “It’s not often those two boneheads know what’s best, but yeah. You’ve got back up.”

Aerisif scowled. “Fine. But I need you two to stay here,” she fixed Delvin and Vex with a hard stare. “Hold down the fort. I’ll take Brynjolf and Karliah. We fight well together. Work well as a team.”

Vex shrugged. “Have it your way.” She and Delvin walked away.

She turned to Brynjolf. “Find Karliah and tell her. Ready your equipment, we ride at dawn.”

***

Aerisif slipped out of the mausoleum into a pitch black night, alone. Brynjolf and Karliah remained in the cistern, asleep and unaware.

_I’ll be back with Thalmor heads before they even wake up._

Torches dotted Riften’s walkways, but Aerisif kept quietly to the shadows, making her way out of town. Her midnight Nightingale Armor cloaked her in ebony, making Aerisif inseparable from the night.

Shadowmere’s red eyes pierced the black oneness of the surrounding forest. Aerisif softly padded over to her stall. She whispered gentle greetings to the horse while adjusting her tack. In a swift motion, Aerisif slid into the saddle and kicked her steed into motion. Shadowmere charged into the night, eager to stretch her legs.

Six Thalmor were a challenge, but a challenge she could handle. Ten was definitely a risk. She thought back to when she rescued Thorald from a whole keep of Thalmor. She could do this. Her inner dragon was pacing, ready to attack.

The two obsidian figures tore through the forest of the Rift. Aerisif kept her eye on that lone peak, her only guide in the darkness. The thunder of Shadowmere’s hooves reverberated in Aerisif’s chest, matching the rhythm of her racing heart. It seemed she had only just left Riften when they pulled up to the stoic base of the mountain. She jumped off Shadowmere’s back as the horse slowed to a walk, landing silently on the soft grass. Aerisif concentrated hard, and a moment later a small orb of light popped out of her hand and floated above her head.

Approaching the wall in the eerie bluish light of her spell, Aerisif squinted at the rocky face. For a moment she regretted coming in the dark of night now, struggling to find the rune that would point to this cave. Was she even in the right place? Her eyes scrutinized the stone, searching for anything that might seem unnatural in the rock. Suddenly her gaze caught a trace of pigment smeared on the rock. On closer inspection, Aerisif made out an arrow shape. The light floating overhead wore off, and Aerisif traced her fingertips along the rock as she tread westward, as Brynjolf had told her.

She found the slim opening of the cave a few paces later. Aerisif froze, straining her ears to hear any sign of life inside. Nothing.

Aerisif rubbed the soft fuzz on Shadowmere’s nose. “You won’t fit inside, girl,” The horse snorted indignantly. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them flee. Can you take care of them for me?” Shadowmere tossed her head and pawed at the ground.

The stones of the mountain were cold and dewey as Aerisif scrambled up the rocky face of the mount. Boulders were easy enough to manage, but some of the steeper crags were more daunting to scale. The ground flattened out and Aerisif scanned the dirt for any sign of the hole Brynjolf had mention.

She was seething all the while. _How could Brynjolf have let this happen?_ This was a bad situation, every way she looked at it. Now it was up to her to clean up the mess.

_This could have been the undoing of the Guild—_

Aerisif’s foot caught the hole in the rock and her body slammed into the stone. Aerisif dared not breathe, dared not blink, as she listened to the gravel clink and clatter down into the cavern below. Only when her body screamed for breath, and she had heard no sound of disruption from below, did Aerisif lift herself up from the ground and breathe.

_I’ve got to keep my head._

The hole was only slightly wider than she was— Aerisif was glad she did not choose her ebony armor, there was no way it would fit— and the opening peered down into a dark cave. She grabbed a small rock and tossed it down the hole, straining her ears to hear how long it took to hit the floor of the cave. The following _clink_ came only second later. Not a far drop at all.

Aerisif supported herself with her arms and slowly let her legs slide through the crevice into the cave. Trying her hardest to stay relaxed, she released her grip on the stone and dropped into the cave, and immediately rolled out of the lone stream of moonlight.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark cave, Aerisif looked around and found her bearings. She began to make out small openings in the slate that seemed to be smaller channels and rooms off the main cave.

“Las, Yah, Nir,” the whisper slid from Aerisif’s lips. Shimmering red auras became visible in the darkness. Two in the room to her left, three over by the main entrance, two more in a small room to the right, sleeping probably, and one just a few paces away from her. She was lucky her drop into the cave didn’t alert that one.

Sensing that she would be well shrouded, Aerisif drew the dagger from her belt rather than the sword from her back. She crept toward the unaware Thalmor, her footsteps silent.

The Thalmor had not the time to blink before Aerisif’s dagger carved a river of blood across his exposed throat. Aerisif caught the body before the golden armor could clang to the stone and raise the alarm. She slid the body into further shadows and quickly rummaged it for what she could: a couple septims, a healing potion, a garnet she could sell later.

Aerisif turned her attention to the rooms still containing Thalmor. The sleeping pair would be easy kills, and she crept in that direction.

The first was easy: Aerisif slit his throat, the elf never to awake again. As she made the kill, the second stirred. As the mage rose from the bed and cast a ward, Aerisif quickly jammed her dagger into her enemy’s throat.

The dragon within her was alive, circling and spitting fire.

The sound of that skirmish drew the attention of the other two Thalmor on this side of the cave. Aerisif adjusted her stance, drew her sinister greatsword, and waited for them to come, flexing her grip on the blade.

“You never should have come here!” The first one shouted. He wore a golden shield on one arm, matched by a gleaming short sword in the other. Aerisif lunged toward him. He raised his sword to block, but Aerisif’s strength sent him staggering back. A shift in her weight, a quick turn, and Aerisif was ready to strike the second, who had flanked her. He approached with his shield raised, and Aerisif’s blow glanced off it, but knocked his helm off in the process. She pivoted, and faced both Thalmor.

Aerisif bought herself time by taking a few paces backward, gathering her strength while pulling the behemoth blade back. The pair crept closer, unaware of the force swelling in their foe.

The Bloodskal Blade swiped parallel to the floor, slicing both Thalmors’ armor open and releasing the sinister, red energy it was feared for. The flash of red sunk into the weakened elves, knocking them to the ground. Aerisif swung once more, finishing them both off.

_Kill. Blood. Blood!_ The dragon screamed.

Aerisif charged into the main cave, releasing a battle cry from her maw. The remaining three Thalmor were already alert to her presence and approaching. Her yell made them stop for a moment, and the pair in gleaming elven armor sent apprehensive looks to the mage.

“Kill her!” his order brought their nerve back to them. Aerisif rolled and dodged a bolt of lightning, lunged again to miss a second. The armored pair had reached her now. Ducking, Aerisif’s cloaked figure fell from their sight for a moment. The Thalmors’ swords swung over her head and met each other, causing an eruption of vulgarities from each. Aerisif swung at their feet, feeling the metals grind and scrape. She rolled back again, trying to give herself room to swing.

Then she heard the sound she dreaded most. That otherworldly _hum_ of a monster being summoned from Oblivion. A pit of purple and jet opened to her left, and Aerisif clenched her jaw, waiting to see what would emerge.

A frost atronach lumbered out, swinging its icy club.

_Fuck,_ thought Aerisif, as she blocked swings from the armored Thalmor.

Now trying to dodge blows from the Thalmor swordsmen, swings from the icy giant, and blasts of lightning from the mage, Aerisif hardly had time to strike. While wearing her Nightingale armor allowed her to move swiftly and easily, it did not provide as much protection as her heavy armor did. She wondered if she had made the wrong choice.

Her feet were nimble though, and her small frame had often proved to be an advantage in battle. She out maneuvered the Thalmors’ advance and was able to leap away to where she could swing her woeful blade once more. The powerful strike sliced with magical force, rendering one Thalmor to his knees. Her next strike took off his head.

Her dragon snapped its jaws hungrily for more.

As she charged toward the next golden target, she was struck by an icy blast, chilling her to her bones.

_No, no, no!_ Aerisif hated these atronachs the most. She struggled to move her legs, each crusted in ice and numb from the deep freeze. Panic began to choke her. The Thalmor was running toward her, blade raised. Aerisif could not move, and the magic of her blade relied on the strength that was sapped from her.

“Fus Roh Dah!” She shouted. Maybe simplistic, but it was the first shout that came to her mind. The remaining Thalmor was thrown against the far wall, his head taking the brunt of the force. The frost atronach stumbled back a few paces.

Aerisif began to feel some of her strength return, her legs able to move again. She rolled just in time to miss the atronach’s shimmering fist smash the space she had just occupied. She took the chance to strike, swinging wildly at the beast while it worked to pull its massive appendage back from the ground.

Backing away when it had recovered, Aerisif felt the blinding pain of lightning surging through her nerves. She grit her teeth and squinted, trying to ignore the blast, as the armored Thalmor charged toward her again. He ran with a strength he should not after his impact with the wall.

_Damn mage healed him,_ Aerisif realized.

Baring her teeth, Aerisif raised her weapon and met the Thalmor in combat. She swung fiercely, her blade tracing wide arcs in blood red slashes. The elf could not match her strength, or the magnitude of the blade she carried. His golden shell cracked and crumpled, his body fell to the ground.

An icy fist knocked Aerisif off her feet. The cold numbness returned to her legs as she struggled to get up. The glacial beast lumbered toward her.

“Yol Toor Shul!” The inferno ripped from her throat, roasting the atronach. The heat from her flames brought some life back into her legs, and Aerisif rose, lifted her sword, and drove the blade down into the atronach. It shattered and returned to whatever icy void it came from.

_Now there’s just that damned mage._

Aerisif had no more thought the words when she was struck by an energy she had not felt before. She had done battle with mages more than she’d like to recount. She was familiar with the jolt of lightning based spells, the searing pain of flame spells, and the icy burn of frost spells. Aerisif knew those pains all too well.

But this, this was something different altogether. Aerisif could not move. She was paralyzed, magically. Agony wrenched her body, and every inch of her wanted to scream and twist from the torment. There was no release from this pain.

A low chuckle echoed on the walls of the cave. The Thalmor mage approached her.

“Well well, what do we have here?” He circled her immobile body like a predator toys with its prey.

Aerisif felt her strength sap.

“Nightingale armor, hmm? I’ve caught another little bird. This one even more vulnerable and fragile than the last, it seems.”

Unable to speak from the mage’s spell, Aerisif glared at the elf. Her vision was getting blurry, she was growing weaker, but she shot as much venom as she could through her stare. Her bones screamed from the pressure exerted on them.

“You have cost me men, little bird,” the elf sneered. “You’ll need to be punished for that.”

This spell was tapping her life force. Aerisif knew she would expire from this twisted, new magic. Spots clouded her vision. She was fading.

He smiled. “But perhaps you can be of use to me, like that other pathetic soul. Or maybe I’ll make him watch, while I—“

An arrow protruded from the mage’s chest. He looked at the arrow in outrage and spun around. His eyes widened in shock when he saw what approached.

Two shadows emerged from the mouth of the cave. Karliah stood, bow drawn tight with a second arrow. Brynjolf bore down from the darkness, ebony sword in hand.

The red headed rogue thief drove his sword through the mage’s chest. Aerisif felt her body release, the spell breaking as its caster perished, but the searing pain lingered.

“You won’t ever touch another one of us again, _you fucking coward, Veladar.”_ Brynjolf hissed through gritted teeth, twisting the sword in the languishing elf. He violently pulled the sword out, letting it and the dead Thalmor mage fall to the ground.

Brynjolf scooped up Aerisif’s limp frame. “What the hell were you thinking, lass! Gods, Aerisif, stay with me. Stay with me lass!”

Aerisif attempted a weak smile. She tried to speak, but only an airy whisper came out.

“Shh, lass, don’t speak. Save your strength. Let’s get you out of here.” He lifted her body easily. Aerisif’s face wrinkled with a silent scream at the pain, before her consciousness lost to the agony wracking her body.

***

Pain. Throbbing, swirling pain engulfed Aerisif entirely. She felt a humming throughout her body, the source unidentifiable.

In her deep sleep, Aerisif floated in and out of visions.

Aerisif was practicing swinging a greatsword, toiling in the Whiterun heat. Fear banged in her chest, screaming that she would never get the hang of it. Her next encounter with a dragon would be her last. She would be known as the weakest Dragonborn to ever exist on Nirn, she would be a joke to the gods.

The humming was growing louder.

She was in the heat of battle, a wild battle cry ripping from her maw. She could move quickly now, the weight of the steel was nothing to her. Her blade was soaring up, and crashing down, unrelenting. There was no stopping, Aerisif didn’t see until her blade met worn armor. A dark haired woman lay crumpled in Aerisif’s arms, a pledge of loyalty whispered on her last breath. Aerisif sobbed over the dead woman’s body.

Aerisif was a dragon. She floated in and out of the clouds, stretching her wings as wide as they could reach. The cold air was nothing to dragonscale. The night cloaked her ebony body.

Were these her memories? There was no telling anymore. The humming was persistent and constant.

She was at High Hrothgar, panting and sweating, learning to shout. She was in Sovngarde, taking a last longing look at Shor’s Hall before being returned to Mundus. Slamming down the damp Bill of Sale for Goldenglow on a rickety table in the Flagon, and seeing the bewilderment and pride in Brynjolf’s eyes. Waking up to find Astrid’s slender frame draped so casually on the shelf in that shack. The strange peace that drifted from Titus Mede’s face, eyes closed, sighing his last breath, accepting. Dungeon and Dwemer ruin alike scrolled past her vision like an endless dream, treasure spilling out of every variety of vessel.

Her parents’ farm was a dot on the landscape. Her mother and father were there, pointing and trembling. She tried to land, but found she had no control of this dragon’s body. She was trapped, a prisoner within it. The troubles of men were nothing to a dragon.

_Aerisif_ , the hum became a voice.

A raven haired child sprinted down the mountainside toward the smoke. Her heart was going to beat out of her chest.

_Aerisif,_ the voice beckoned again.

A silhouette of a dragon appeared in her vision. It was featureless, but Aerisif felt this was the dragon that lived in her. The dragon that was her.

_Wake up, my child. Rise from sleep._

The raven haired girl was frightened, but stepped forward.

_You cannot rest now,_ the gravelly voice said. _You are not done here. We have more to do._

A broken woman in rags with matted midnight locks and empty steely eyes was crouched behind a rock outside of Helgen, afraid of anything in the skies. “No,” she shook her head and shouted. “NO!” tears were streaming down her face.

The silhouette of the dragon coiled. _Yes, my daughter. There is much more for you here._

The woman in rags sobbed. “Just let me die,” she begged. “Let me die in peace.”

The dragon loomed larger. It drifted slowly from black as night to glowing the warm gold of dawn. Each scale, claw, and spike became clearly defined in the light the dragon radiated. As the dragon lit up, Aerisif felt her body warm. It was like watching the sunrise.

_No, my child._ The dragon boomed, but the voice was not threatening. _You have chased death down every road for too long. You have barely yet to live. I did not give you this gift to have you waste it._

The ragged woman sneered. “Give me this gift? You mean this curse! I am cursed to live alone.”

The dragon that glowed of dawn pondered. _Ah, but are you truly alone? Have you not met worthy companions, faithful followers? You have rebuked them._

“To protect them! I must protect the weak. That is my duty, the curse of this gift.”

_And have you? Protected them?_ The voice seemed to purr.

A warrior in ebony armor bowed her head, defeated. “Not as I should have,” she admitted. “But gods, I tried!”

The dragon considered a moment. _This is so. But, perhaps you are right, my daughter. Perhaps you need a greater ally, a stronger companion. An equal._ The last words were dipped in honey.

A suspicious young woman cloaked midnight leather eyed the golden dragon calculatingly. “Who are you?” She demanded indignantly.

The dragon spread its magnificent wings, and showered golden light through the flecked membranes. _You know who I am,_ the voice was low and comforting.

Silver eyes grew wide with understanding. The warrior fell to her knees, offering up her greatsword. “I am honored, Akatosh.”

_Go now. There is much to do._

“What more could I do? I saved Tamriel! I saved all of Nirn! I have done all you asked!”

Darkness returned to the golden dragon. Black crept like spilled ink on parchment over the once glimmering hide, like blood seeping from a wound. Soon the dragon had returned to its sinister obsidian, no more than a silhouette.

_There are more trials ahead, my daughter. I will send you an equal._

“Aerisif,” a new, gentle voice broke the silence. Was it silence, or was it just the absence of Akatosh?

She turned her head. A short woman with black hair stood before her.

“Mother?”

The woman nodded.

The raven haired child ran into her mother’s arms and was swept into a hug. “Aerisif,” she cooed. She held the embrace a moment longer before pulling away and holding her child at arms length. Her face turned grave.

“You cannot trust them, daughter.”

The child’s face scrunched up with confusion. “Who?”

“They say they want to protect you. To help you. It’s a lie! They. Are. Liars. Do you hear me, Aerisif? Do you understand?”

“Mother!” But the woman was already beginning to fade.

“Promise me, Aerisif! Promise me!” The woman was all but a vapor now.

***

Aerisif awoke with a start, panting. The room around her dark and shadowy. She looked around in a panic, hardly able to make out shapes.

“Aerisif!” A voice called from the darkness.

“Brynjolf? Bryn, is that you?” She started to push herself from the bed.

“No, Aerisif, don’t move!”

It was too late. Aerisif took one step and crumpled to the floor. 

***

When Aerisif woke for the second time, her first sensations were soft and warm. She felt sunlight on her face. There was a light fragrance in the air. Was that…juniper? The smell transported her back to the mountains of the Reach. Springtimes spent exploring the mountains and wandering through forests came floating back to her.

The light filtered through her eyelids seemed to have a warm hue. Was it…pink? Aerisif cracked her eyes open.

She was back in the room at Riftweald, tucked into the bed, now with finer sheets and blankets than it had seen before.

The shimmering pink light came from the window. All the stones of Barenziah that she had found were laid out in the sun. They reflected and refracted the light into a million glimmering facets across the room. Aerisif felt a pang of panic that they were all laid out there, in the open for anyone to take, until she saw Brynjolf sat slumped in a chair by the window, asleep.

Aerisif continued to scan the room. Bouquets of nightshade were gathered around the bed. In the corner, some juniper sprigs smoldered, sending incensed tendrils into the air.She noticed that her armor had been removed and she had been clothed in a fine, soft robe made of red cloth. Her armor sat neatly by the table, cleaned and oiled, and the Bloodskal Blade leaned against the wall, polished and gleaming.

_They thought I was going to die._

“Bryn,” She called softly.

He bolted upright. “Aer!” Brynjolf nearly jumped to the bed.

“Bryn,” Aerisif tried to move.

“Stay still, lass. Don’t move.” Brynjolf’s green eyes gazed down at her, full of concern.

“Bryn, what happened?” Aerisif’s voice was thick from sleep.

He sighed and stroked her hair. “You passed out almost right when we found you. If we had been even a minute later, I…” his voice trailed off. “Well, we’re lucky we got there when we did. We brought you back here, and the priest has been tending to you.”

“How long have I been sleeping?”

Brynjolf sucked in his breath. “It’s been four days, lass.”

“FOUR DAYS?”

He nodded.

“Fuck.” Aerisif’s eyes glazed over as she scanned the offerings in the room. “No wonder you all thought I was dying.”

Brynjolf shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean for them to be offerings. I just…I thought that your favorite things would bring you back.”

Aerisif smiled up at him and cupped his face with her hand. Fear broke through her happiness. Her smile broke and sadness tinted her eyes. “What’s wrong with me?”

Brynjolf sighed. “Maramal says he’s never seen this kind of magic before.”

“Am I—Bryn, am I paralyzed??” Panic seeped into her voice.

He shook his head. “No, not permanently. I imagine you have more use of your legs now than you did when you woke up in the night. But regaining your strength will be slow. You won’t be battle or job ready for a few weeks. You have to rest. You HAVE TO, okay, lass?”

Before she could respond, the door opened and Karliah, Delvin, and Vex poured in.

“Guess you’re not quite stupid enough to die, huh?” Vex quipped. Delvin elbowed her in the side, hard, and Vex glared at him.

“How ya feelin’, boss?”

Aerisif raised her chin. “Ready to run some jobs,” she smiled weakly. “Got any work?”

Delvin chuckled and took the chair by the window. Karliah approached.

“Thank Nocturnal you made it. We were so worried about you, you were nearly dead when we found you.”

Aerisif grimaced. “I love hearing about how fragile I am.”

Karliah shrugged her comment off. “I suspect Nocturnal chose you for your spirit. I can’t imagine she’s done with you quite yet. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Thanks, Karliah. For everything. I would be dead if it hadn’t been for you two.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about that, shall we?” Vex drawled from the corner. “That was a dumb ass move, leaving them behind like that.”

“Vex,” Brynjolf warned.

“What, you’re not mad about this? After all you two have been through, she stalks off in the middle of the night and ALMOST DIES. After promising that she would take you and Karliah.”

Brynjolf crossed his arms and glared, but said nothing.

“I’m sorry.” Aerisif’s apology cut the tension in the room. “I shouldn’t have done it. I knew it was a bad idea. It’s just. I— I wanted to protect you all.”

A vulnerable Aerisif was not one that any of them were used to seeing, outside of Brynjolf, and even then Aerisif tried to hide it from him too. They all shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, you’re alive, that’s what matters.” Delvin said. “Try to stay that way for a bit longer, yeah?” He was leaning forward.

Aerisif smiled. “That’s the plan.” Wait, Delvin wasn’t just leaning forward. He was leaning ON something.

Her sword.

“Hey, get your paws off my blade.”

Delvin admired it. “Bet this would fetch a fine price. Have to ask Tonilia about it…such a unique thing…”

“Damned right it is. I pulled that from Bloodskal Barrow myself, and paid a fine price in blood and sweat to earn it. From a goddamn Dragon Priest. So fuck off my sword, yeah?” Aerisif’s brows furrowed as she glared at Delvin.

Delvin’s eyes were shifty, shiftier than usual. “Did you say Skal?”

Aerisif’s scowl faded into a knowing smile. “Yeah, I sure did. On Solstheim? Ever been there?”

Delvin shook his head.

“But surely you’ve heard of it. Send any letters to Raven Rock recently?” Her tone was mischievous.

The others in the room exchanged confused glances.

Delvin was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his head behind his hands, as if he could pretend he wasn’t there.

“No? Well, I guess I’ll just have to tell big brother Glover that you say hello next time I’m there.”

“What?” Brynjolf drew back in surprise.

“You have a brother in Morrowind?” Karliah turned to him.

“You have a brother?!” Vex threw her arms out in rage.

Delvin shot a pained look to Aerisif. “Thanks for that, boss.”

Aerisif grinned devilishly. “Sword, please.” Delvin returned the sword to where it had been leaning up against the wall.

The door opened again, this time bringing Maramal. The priest looked shocked. “Out! Too many of you in here, she needs rest! Get out!”

The room of thieves glared. Maramal looked at each occupant in turn, as the leather clad thieves crossed their arms and stood tall. Maramal gulped and began to cower sightly, not daring to release his gaze from Vex, who was menacingly stepping closer.

Aerisif laughed. “Let him be, guys. Go on, get out. I’ll be out of here soon.”

With that, Delvin, Vex, and Karliah strode from the room. Karliah towered over the Redguard on her way out the door.

“No nonsense, priest. We need her whole.”

Maramal nodded anxiously.

Brynjolf took the seat by the window as Maramal approached Aerisif.

“I’m glad to see you are awake, child of Mara.”

“Yeah yeah, save the praising of the Divines till you’re back in the Temple. How soon can I get out of here?”

Maramal handed her the potion he was holding. “Drink this. I’ve been brewing it specially for your case. While I’ve never seen magic that paralyzes before, this tincture should speed up your recovery. As should this.” He knelt by the bed, raised his hands over her legs, and began to work a healing spell.

Aerisif felt the itch of the spell work on her legs. She longed to wriggle free of the spell, the itch was unbearable. She fidgeted and twisted—

She fidgeted and twisted. She could move her legs.

“Maramal, you miracle worker!”

“It is not I who heals you, I am but the tool of the benevolent Mara—“

“Yes, yes, we know.” Aerisif rolled her eyes. Brynjolf chuckled at her impatience.

Maramal tipped his head, holding back his indignation. “Rest more, child. While the use of your legs has been restored, they are weak. This is strange, dark magic that has done this. If you overwork them, I fear your recovery will be even longer.” He turned and left the room.

Brynjolf moved to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Aerisif. “You’ve never been afraid of learning something new. Think you can handle learning how to relax?”

Aerisif grinned. “Only if you’re going to be here the whole time. Promise to take care of me?” The words reminded her of the dream she’d had. Was it a dream? Her mother’s last call echoed in her head.

_Promise me, Aerisif! Promise me!_ Aerisif could still hear the fear in her mother’s voice.

Brynjolf smiled and stroked her hair. “I promise.” He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

_Promise me, Aerisif._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! I hope that you all have enjoyed my fic, my first ever to exist other than in my daydreams. That being said...
> 
> I am going to write more! I've got ideas for all sorts of stories following Aerisif and Co. What would you all like to read: Stories that take place before this one? Or after this one? Some more from Brynjolf's perspective? Tell me in the comments what you want to read next!
> 
> ALSO I would like to direct you all to my Tumblr blog, wit-beyond-me, for all sorts of Skyrim/Elder Scrolls/ Nerd shit. There you will find the most AMAZING digital artwork of the one, the only, ya girl Aerisif! I'll also be posting some not included in my fic tidbits about Aerisif and Co., and whatever other nerdy ramblings I feel like regurgitating on the internet. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> And we're off! Planning on five chapters but we'll see what the ol' muse has in store. 
> 
> The adventure continues!


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